Meddling of a Mischief Maker
by Athey
Summary: Harry's being a horcrux is a bit reworked here in this AU Story set during the summer after 5th year. A Mischief Maker intervenes in the Ministry during Voldemort and Dumbledore's duel, changing the course history. MorallyGrey!Dumbledore, Sirius, Restored Souls, HP/TR, slash
1. Chapter 1

Title: Meddling of a Mischief Maker

Rating: M

Pairing: HP/TR

Themes: AU, horcruxes, second chances, morally questionable Dumbledore, betrayal, redemption

Description: AU - Harry being a horcrux is a bit reworked here. A mischief maker intervenes in the Ministry during Voldemort and Dumbledore's changing the course history.

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Chapter 1

Harry could barely process the events that were unfolding before him. His mind was numb from the events that had transpired during the last hour - riding to the Ministry on Thestrals to save Sirius, struggling through the Department of Mysteries and finally reaching the hall of Prophecy - being attacked by a group of Death Eaters and then the subsequent struggle to not get killed.

And Sirius' death.

Harry had chased after Bellatrix, fueled by his hatred, anger, and despair, and had even gone so far as to shoot an unforgivable at the wretched witch. But she'd shrugged it off and laughed at his rather pitiful attempt.

And then Voldemort had appeared.

And now Harry stood there in the Ministry Atrium, guarded by two large stone statues whom Dumbledore had transfigured to protect him, watching while Dumbledore and Voldemort engaged in what was undoubtedly the most epic duel Harry was ever likely to witness.

Dumbledore had just vanished a giant snake that Voldemort had transfigured out of a fiery whip that Dumbledore had conjured earlier. Just as the snake vanished, Dumbledore drew water out of the Atrium's fountain and sent it swirling around Voldemort to form what looked like a sphere of molten glass.

Voldemort appeared to struggle to breath as he fought, unsuccessfully, to throw the spell off. A moment of hope filled Harry until Voldemort suddenly vanished with another crack of disapparition, vanishing from the ball of water in an instant.

Sure that it was over — _sure_ that Voldemort had finally decided to flee, Harry made to run out from behind his statue guard, but Dumbledore bellowed, "Stay where you are, Harry!" For the first time, Dumbledore sounded frightened.

And then, with no real warning, a pain swelled up in his head that seemed to make the whole world go white hot and terrible. His entire world seemed to twist and swirl and all he could seem to process was pressure and pain, and the sense that there was some sort of creature where he himself used to be.

And then the creature spoke, and it spoke with Harry's voice. "Kill me now, Dumbledore…"

It was Voldemort, Harry realized with some small shred of his mind that was still able to think straight. He had been possessed, and this creature he felt hallowing him out from the inside, was Voldemort. Anger and glee seemed to swell inside him - inside the creature - as he taunted Dumbledore using Harry's mouth and voice.

Despair began to fill Harry, and thoughts of Sirius began to find their way into his thoughts, but the process was interrupted by a strange jarring sensation in his mind. The pain even seemed to dim for a moment and Harry sensed a sudden wave of bewilderment coming from Voldemort.

Shock, confusion, _denial._

" _No… it can't be…"_ Harry felt his jaw moving as the hissing words seemed to spill from between his lips.

And then, Harry felt his whole body convulse and heave as the creature began to violently extract itself from Harry's mind. Harry's back arched and he fell to his knees before collapsing forward and heaving out a ragged, strangled cough. Harry raised his head, panting breathlessly, to find Voldemort standing before him, staring down at him with wide, almost horrified eyes.

And then everything stopped.

It was as if the entire world around them, froze. Water, spewing from the fountain stopped in place. Smoke from surrounding fires, and the fires themselves, suddenly became motionless, paused in a moment in time. And the atrium fell utterly silent.

Voldemort whipped around wildly, apparently just as surprised by the sudden stop as Harry was. Harry turned and saw that Dumbledore was just as frozen as the rest of the room, and it became obvious to Harry, all of a sudden, that he and Voldemort were the only things still moving.

"Wha —" Harry began to say in a hoarse, raspy voice, but he was cut short by the sudden sound of… _giggling_.

Voldemort twisted and turned in all directions, searching out the source of the sound, but the echoing reverberation of the sound in the otherwise silent atrium, made the sound seem sourceless.

The giggling sounded like that of a young girl, but it had a strange, unpleasant and other-wordly quality about it. A shimmering distortion of light began to manifest in the air above the fountain, slowly lowering towards the ground in front of it, and becoming clearer and visible as it lowered. The figure that appeared was that of girl with wings that resembled a dragon fly's. She probably stood about four feet tall, if she were standing, and she was wearing nothing at all, and making Harry feel the need to avert his eyes.

She was clearly less than human though, giant insect-like wings, not withstanding, as her limbs were all longer and much thinner than could be considered normal for a human, and her face had a thin pointed look to it. Her ears were long and stuck out from the sides of her head at an unusual angle, long wispy whiskers came out from her eyebrows, and her hair almost looked as if it was interwoven with long stringy moss. She had the body of a prepubescent girl, with no body hair, and nothing of much of note on her chest, which honestly only made Harry that much more uncomfortable with her lack of dress.

Her eyes were a vivid purple, her skin pale and slightly bluish, and her hair a reedy yellow and greenish mix. She was smiling a wicked smile, and looking entirely too pleased.

"You've finally noticed!" she announced gleefully, grinning at Voldemort, who was looking at her with an expression of shock and annoyance.

"Who are you? What is this?" Voldemort demanded, waving his arm around, to indicate the motionless surroundings.

"I was _so_ hoping that one of you would notice," she said, seemingly ignoring his questions. "I could only interfere if one of you noticed, and you did!" she exclaimed giddily, hovering about a foot off the ground, and clapping her small hands together excitedly.

"Interfere?" Voldemort asked, sharply.

"I have ever-so wanted to pay the two of you a visit. You caught my interest you see - such an unusual situation! It's just not something you can come across very often! It's nearly unique!"

"What _are_ you babbling about!? Why is the room stopped?" Voldemort demanded angrily.

"The room didn't stop, _everything_ stopped. Everything, except us, that is," she said, finally addressing one of his questions. "I pulled the two of you out of the regular flow of time, so we could have a little _chat_."

"What are you?" Voldemort hissed out in a cold, dangerous voice.

"A Sidhe of a sort. I am of the Old People. I am Dadguddiwr."

Voldemort's eyes widened and Harry was surprised to see a look of shock and interest grace the madman's features.

"Why are you here?" Voldemort asked again, but in a softer, curious tone, this time.

"I already told you! The two of you - or the one of you, I suppose —" she paused and giggled, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "—were just too rare a phenomenon to ignore! I've been just _dying_ for a chance to talk to the two of you, but until one of you noticed something, I couldn't!" she ended in the pouting tone of a child, but her lips curled into a smirk.

"Noticed?" Voldemort said in a hushed whisper of a voice, and Harry looked over at him with mild confusion. Voldemort's expression was not one that Harry could have imagined gracing the man's face before this point. Denial, fear… Harry wasn't sure how else to describe it, but it was definitely strange.

"Why, your connection, of course! Your soul!" she exclaimed.

"It's not possible," Voldemort whispered, shaking his head in very small movements, from side to side.

"But you saw it - you _felt_ it," she said, grinning wickedly and hovering closer, so it was as if she were bent over, her legs folded up at the knees with her feet pointing upwards, several feet off the ground and chest and arms down low. She came to a stop several feet away but eye-level with Voldemort and smirked mischievously.

Harry just watched the two, feeling utterly lost and confused. His head still throbbed, but it had numbed a lot since everything had stopped. A clearer mind, however, did not help in making the events unfolding before him, make any more sense.

"But it's _impossible!"_ Voldemort hissed almost desperately. "It doesn't make _sense!_ "

"What is going on!?" Harry bellowed, finally at the limit of his patience.

The sidhe fairy girl turned and grinned at him. "Why, Voldemort here has just discovered, by attempting to possess your body, that he and you share a soul, but he can't quite grasp how that's possible," she said in a tone far too casual for the enormity of the words she'd just spoken.

"He - wait, _what?"_ Harry stuttered.

"Do you know what I am?" she asked, smirking.

"What? No. I think that was already made pretty obvious before," Harry replied incredulously.

"But you do, don't you?" she said, turning and looking at Voldemort.

"You're a mischief maker," Voldemort said, glowering at her. "The Betrayers of Secrets."

"I tell _truths_ ," she said, pointedly.

"You reveal people's secrets, in an attempt to cause chaos - at least, that's what the stories say."

She grinned again. "And the stories would be right. But more importantly, I can _only_ tell truths. I cannot lie."

"But you _can_ mislead," Voldemort replied accusingly.

"I would hardly have any need here! The truth is so gloriously delicious! So horribly destructive!" she said excitedly, floating into the air a bit and spinning around almost gleefully.

Harry looked back and forth between the two of them, both afraid and confused. "What truth?" he asked.

"The truth that Albus Dumbledore has been keeping secret from the two of you for _years!_ " she said in an excited hush as she flew down towards Harry, faster than he would have thought she could.

He jerked and took a startled step backwards. "What truth?" Harry whispered again, a feeling of foreboding welling up deep in his chest.

"It's a long story. So many delicious details to cover. I insist upon your full attention!" she said in a childishly firm tone.

"Just get on with it!" Voldemort demanded impatiently.

"Oh, where to start? So many secrets to choose from! Albus Dumbledore has surrounded himself with so many lies, it's almost difficult to find my way through the web, it's so dense!" she said gleefully, doing a little pirouette in the air before coming to a stop and tilting her head and pressing one finger to her lip, thoughtfully.

Harry felt the sense of dread growing in his gut, even while he told himself that this was all probably some elaborate trick.

"I suppose the best place to start…" she began, drawing the word out a bit, "would be with _the prophecy!_ After all, that is why we're _here_ , isn't it? The reason that the two of you have managed to meet in this place, on this day…"

Harry's lips parted, and he was suddenly terrified that his destruction of the prophecy to keep it away from Malfoy might suddenly prove pointless. Could this fae know what it said? Was she about to reveal it to Voldemort anyway?!

"Well!? What about it!" Voldemort demanded.

She grinned wickedly, obviously enjoying the suspense. "The prophecy… is… _fake!_ " She said and then let out a small cackle.

Voldemort's lips parted and his face slackened. "What?" he whispered.

"It's fake! The whole thing was an elaborate trap! There never was a real prophecy!"

 _Fake?_ Harry's mind whirled, trying to incorporate this new detail and not knowing quite how to do it.

"I mean, it really shouldn't be _that_ much of a surprise," the girl said in a musing tone. "After all, does it really make any sense for Dumbledore to hold new employee interviews in a _pub_? And not even a _good_ pub! You'd think that if Dumbledore, for some reason, felt the need to keep the applicants for the divination post, out of the school, that he would at least reserve a room at Madam Rosmerta's. But the _Hog's Head?_ Ew!" She twisted her face up into a mock expression of disgust. "Even more damning is the fact that the bar keep at the Hog's Head is Dumbledore's brother, so it was even easier for him to arrange the entire thing when Aberforth was sure at least one or two of your new recruits tended to hang about."

"Fake…" Voldemort whispered in an almost dumbstruck horror.

"The reality is that Dumbledore had met with Trelawney months before the so-called prophecy was made," she said.

"Wait, _Trelawney?!"_ Harry exclaimed, only just catching on a bit.

"She was desperate for a job, and Dumbledore was desperate for some way to bait _the Dark Lord_ into falling into a trap! So they struck a deal. Dumbledore wrote the prophecy, and Trelawney performed it, when the time was called for."

"What… what was this _trap_ exactly?" Voldemort asked in a cold, hissing tone.

"Dumbledore believed that he had finally determined what magic you had used to gain immortality. He discovered several years earlier that you'd managed to obtain a copy of the Ars Goetia, and with a few other coincidental clues, determined that you'd struck a deal with the demon, Asmoday, to protect your mortality and keep you alive, no matter what attack you may suffer."

Voldemort made a scoffing sound and rolled his eyes. "The demons from the Goetia do not strike _deals_ with mortals, and only a fool would _try_."

"Oh, yes. I agree wholeheartedly," she said, nodding her head sagely, while also suppressing a grin. "But Dumbledore had happened upon a comical number of circumstantial bits of evidence that mislead him into a false sense of certainty. He found a spell that could be used to break any binding between one of the greater demons and a mortal, and became determined that if he could maneuver you into the right circumstances, he could break your ties to immortality, and destroy you in the process. The one problem, however, was that the spell in question required the sacrifice of an innocent in order to work."

At this she turned and gave Harry a falsely woeful look. "A baby would have to die, to satisfy the demon and break the connection! How _awful!"_

Harry's heart was racing, and he felt his head turning slowly, side to side, as denial after denial flooded his mind.

"It just so happened that, at this time, two different witches, who had both taken up membership in the Order of the Phoenix, were pregnant, and even more wonderfully convenient, both were due at the same time! He realized that while he was almost certain of his spells, there were certain details that he had a chance of getting wrong. If his first attempt failed, it would be _oh so convenient_ if he could have a backup baby! So when he was constructing his bait - his _false prophecy_ \- he made sure that it could easily be pointing to _either_ of the babies. That would leave you with the need to go after both, _just to be safe._

" _Now_ , you," she pointed at Voldemort, "already know the first few lines of the prophecy, but Harry here is still in the dark! How unfair! So Harry - for the sake of getting you up to speed, the first few lines go like this. _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches!_ Now this part was supposed to really catch his attention. A threat approaches! One who can destroy the Dark Lord!? Impossible!" she exclaimed mockingly. "Next it goes, _Born to those who have thrice defied him!_ This part was another convenient detail that both candidates shared. Your parents, being members of the Order, had both been involved in battles against Death Eaters, when Voldemort was present. The _Longbottoms_ , met this criteria as well, although not quite as thoroughly. Only Frank Longbottom had faced off against Death Eaters, during battles where Voldemort had been present. But it was still _close enough_."

"Longbottom?" Harry whispered with a jolt of surprise.

"The next line said, _'Born as the seventh month dies'._ And of course, both you and Neville were born at the end of July. Again, you ended up fitting the bill just a tad bit better, as you were born on the 31st, while Neville as born on the 30th. But this helped to improve the chances that Voldemort would go after you _first_ , and then if that didn't work out, Dumbledore could go to the Longbottoms and offer to improve the protective magic around young Neville, and cast the adjusted spells on him then, in preparation for when Voldemort would come after him."

She paused and tilted her head, giving Harry a pitiable look, "You see, Harry - Dumbledore had never been trying to help your parents hide. He had _never_ been helping them keep you protected and safe; he was just setting them up, waiting for the best opportunity to spring his trap once it was ready. You were just _bait_ , and they were just _pawns."_

"No," Harry denied, hoarsely, shaking his head. "I don't believe you!"

A wicked grin spread across her lips and she let out a gleeful cackle, doing a little dance in the air.

"She can't lie, Potter," Voldemort said with an almost dead tone to his voice. Harry looked at him and realized that his pale snake-like face looked even more sickly than usual, and his expression was slackened. He looked visibly disturbed.

"What?" Harry asked, confused by the statement.

"She can't lie," Voldemort repeated more firmly, and with a sense of annoyance, now. "Her kind is incapable of lying about these sorts of revelations. It's part of the magic that lets her see the things that she sees. She can only speak truths about the secrets she reveals."

Harry looked back and forth, desperately between Voldemort and the strange naked fae in the air, before focusing on Voldemort. "Says you!" Harry accused weakly, desperately wanting to deny what the girl had just said.

"The remainder of the prophecy is hardly of any importance at all," she said then, smiling with satisfaction. "He arranged for his brother to catch any spies at that point, so as that he could make adjustments to the other half of the prophecy at a later date, to make it fit more appropriately with future events, as need be. It actually would have been incredibly convenient for him, that you destroyed the copy here in the Ministry, as it provides him the opportunity to tell you a modified version of his choosing," she said to Harry.

"His plan was going glowingly, and it finally looked like it was all coming together perfectly when he discovered that Peter Pettigrew had gone over to the Death Eaters and was now acting as a spy. Dumbledore knew that James and Lily were growing tired of moving from one safe-house to another, and desperately wanted to settle somewhere more permanent that could also be safe. That was when he finally informed them that he had just _uncovered_ an old charm - the Fidelius charm - that could protect their location in the heart of a secret keeper. Initially they were going to go with Sirius, but Dumbledore suggested to Sirius that, perhaps, he was a bit too _obvious_. Sirius then suggested to James that he should use Peter instead, as _no one_ would possibly expect them to trust Peter with such an important burden. It was all coming together _perfectly_.

"He had already cast the so-called 'protective spells' on the baby Harry Potter, and all that was left was to wait for Voldemort to come and cast a killing curse on you, triggering the spells that would destroy his connection to the demon." She paused, and began to giggle almost neurotically for several moments before apparently getting herself back under control.

"But of course…" she turned and cocked her head sideways, grinning mischievously at Voldemort, "you hadn't made any such deal with a demon. You'd relied on an entirely different sort of magic to try and make yourself immortal."

Voldemort glared at her through narrowed eyes, as if silently threatening her if she said anything more. If the look in her eyes was anything to go by, however, Harry figured she wasn't the least bit intimidated.

"No… you made _horcruxes!_ " she declared with an excited hush before turning her gaze back on Harry. "A horcrux is a physical object that you put a piece of your soul into. It's an exotic branch of Necromantic lore that few wizards dare to delve into, and even fewer have bothered to write anything down about it. Voldemort here, created his first horcrux when he was a mere sixteen years old! And with extremely limited information to go on. He improvised a great deal of it. It's almost amazing that it worked at all.

"At the time, he believed that he was breaking off a _piece_ of his soul, and placing it into his boyhood diary. The diary would act as an anchor, tying down his soul, so that, even if his body were destroyed, his soul could not leave this world, providing him time to find a way to restore his body and return to power.

"Unfortunately," she said with mock sadness, turning her gaze back on Voldemort, "he failed to understand something about how the magic that broke up the soul, worked. You see, it didn't just break off a small piece - it broke the soul in _half_. An even split - half in the horcrux, half left behind. And it wreaks such _havoc_ on the soul, as well. _Such damage!_ It's quite awful! A soul can heal, though, and given the proper circumstances, a person can recover from breaking off half their soul and shoving it into an inanimate object. A soul can heal and grow, _so long as you let it._ But you didn't do that, did you?"

Voldemort looked like he was torn between utter fury and the urge to violently shut her up, and the need to hear what she had to say.

"You made _more_ horcruxes. One safety anchor wasn't enough for you, and every time you made another horcrux, you made the piece of soul that actually ran your body, smaller and smaller. Your soul is a nothing more than a tiny, festering lump of rot at this point. You've damaged it so wholly, it's a wonder you have any control over your magic anymore. If it degrades much further, your control is going to start slipping a lot more often. You're already falling apart."

"You dare!?" Voldemort hissed furiously, aiming his wand and firing off a rather nasty looking purple spell towards her. She swiftly dodged it, cackling with delight.

"I am the most powerful wizard alive!" Voldemort bellowed angrily.

"Not as powerful as you were when you were younger, though - are you?" she asked, teasingly. "I know you've felt it. I know you've noticed. Your mind isn't as sharp as it once was. You can't stay focused properly, and you find yourself obsessing uncontrollably on inconsequential matters. You can't move your magic around like you used to. You can't control it wandlessly like you did as a child. That excruciating _itch_ deep in your mind, won't let your thoughts settle long enough to properly work out problems. It takes you so much longer to craft new spells or organize your plans. I _know_ you've felt it. You cannot deny it to _me_."

Voldemort's hand shook with anger, but also something more, Harry realized. It was _fear_ that he saw behind the man's slitted eyes.

Silence hung for a moment before she began again, the gleeful determination glowing in her eyes.

"The night you went to the Potters, and shot the killing curse at Harry Potter, it activated the ancient magic that Dumbledore had placed upon the baby, but it was the wrong sort of magic to combat against the protections you had actually used. Wrong or not, it was an incredibly powerful piece of magic, and the sacrifice of an innocent life, was still enough to bring about a great deal of destruction."

"But I didn't die," Harry said, shaking his head in confusion.

She paused and looked at him for a moment, smiling softly. "Do you know how the killing curse works?" she asked him.

Harry's jaw floundered for a moment before he shook his head. "No, of course not."

"The killing curse works by severing the soul from the body. It's like a pair of scissors, snipping the string tying down a balloon filled with helium. One clean snip, and the balloon flies away. The soul escapes the body and _moves on_. The fact that the killing curse does this so fast and so violently, is enough of a shock to cause the body to die as well. This is a contrast to what happens with a dementor's kiss, as the kiss is a gradual extraction of the soul - happening slowly enough that the body can often survive the experience, leaving behind a technically-living, but empty, shell.

"The complication here was that the magic cast upon baby Harry Potter, tied the two of you together for a time. It was supposed to be eating away at the demon's protections, but, as there were no demonic protections, it wasn't sure what to do. And while very powerful, it wasn't powerful enough to sever the many chains tying Voldemort's soul to his various horcruxes.

"But…" she said, pausing for obvious dramatic effect, "baby Harry Potter's soul _did_ leave. It _was_ severed from the body, and the sacrifice _did_ take place. The magical connection between the baby's body and Voldemort held for several moments, however, and this drew the process out long enough that the body wasn't killed from shock, as is traditional of the killing curse. Instead, an empty body was left in that cot, still locked in magical connection with Voldemort, as the spell tried to figure out how to destroy the dark wizard. In the end, it seemed to settle on blasting his body to bits, which, while seemingly effective, we know wasn't actually effective at all.

"What's more, this destruction was jarring enough that it managed to put another break down the center of Voldemort's already terribly mangled soul. Half the soul was blasted away," she turned and slowly looked at Voldemort, smirking widely. "The other half…" she turned and grinned wickedly at Harry, "was sucked into the soulless child in the cot."

Harry felt his knees give out and found himself kneeling on the ground. Part of him was aware that he was shaking uncontrollably. His mind seemed to be both blank and screaming in denial at the same time. "No…" he rasped out, over and over, weakly shaking his head. " _No!"_

"Oh, yes," she whispered with a twisted sort of delight before turning her attention back on Voldemort. "You hardly remember anything from the first few years after that, do you?"

Voldemort's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything.

"Your soul was so small, and so badly mangled, that you couldn't even attain awareness. It took years for the bit of soul to grow enough for you to regain any level of consciousness. The same is true of the piece inside Harry Potter. But the piece in him recovered more quickly. He was, after all, inside the body of a child. An environment prime for healthy growth and development of a fresh, under developed soul. And while it was hardly a _nurturing_ or _loving_ environment that he grew up in, it was still stable enough that he grew tremendously those first few years. The piece of soul in you, Harry, has grown to the traditional size and strength of a human soul, all on your own. It's absolutely fascinating just how far a soul can bounce back from the brink of annihilation." She said in a mockingly musing tone.

"I don't believe you," Harry whimpered out, his head hanging, and his hands shaking as they pressed into the cold hard ground and propped him up enough to keep him from falling over completely. "I… I remember stuff from before that. Not clearly, but I _do_ remember my mum begging him to spare me."

"Memories are not only stored in the soul," she explained easily. "No - memories are a physical manifestation, which is why you retained any vague bits of the most recent memories baby Harry had from before his departure and your arrival. The memories were stored in the body, and the body wasn't soulless long enough for them to deteriorate at all."

"Oh god," Harry whispered, overcome with desperation and horror. His whole body shook and his back heaved with ragged breaths.

"Of course, Dumbledore realized what had happened when he examined your body, after you were rescued from the wreckage," she went on conversationally.

Harry felt himself flinch, violently.

"He realized that part of Voldemort's soul had entered the body, but his spells also turned up that it was a tremendously tiny piece of soul, which led him to believe that it couldn't possibly be the whole soul, and certainly not the _main_ soul. He realized that the magic he had thought Voldemort had used was entirely wrong, and he needed to reexamine everything and come up with a new theory. But he also realized that the Potter baby was now, essentially, acting as a living horcrux. He knew that as long as the child lived, the rest of Voldemort would be chained to the living world and would not be able to die."

Another ragged breath worked its way forcefully through Harry and a strangled sob escaped his lips.

"It's how he could be so certain that Voldemort wasn't truly dead," she said in a softer tone that before, causing Harry to raise his head enough to look at her again. "He was faced with a choice - he could kill the child, destroying the horcrux, and the anchor it provided to Voldemort's main soul, or let the child live. There were a couple problems with killing you, of course, Hagrid and Sirius Black had both seen you alive and pulled from the rubble, and word had already started to get out to others that you'd survived a killing curse."

"And, of course, Dumbledore realized that this indicated that there was a very real chance that Voldemort had other pieces of his soul out there, acting as additional anchors. So killing you at that point, would serve very little purpose to him since it wouldn't be enough to make Voldemort mortal."

She floated back higher into the air and glanced back towards Voldemort now. "It took several years, but he did eventually start to work out the idea that he could use Harry as a method for trying to track down other pieces of your soul. It's only just this last year that he's finally made a real breakthrough on that front. The process is a time-consuming and complicated one, but he's confident that he's got it right. And he has. It starts with a very time-intensive potion - it takes _half a year_ to fully set - and once it's ready, he still has to perform another very time-consuming ritual to get the scrying started. He had numerous false starts and outright failures, but he did, finally, get the process worked out, and the initial brewing creates enough of the potion for several uses. And now, he has a way of getting the general location of each of the horcruxes - albeit, it's still a time-consuming process and he can only do one at a time. But he does now know the approximate location of one, and he intends to go searching the area for it more thoroughly as soon as the school term ends."

"What?!" Voldemort bellowed.

She grinned wickedly at him. "The Gaunt house… he intends to go after the ring."

Voldemort's nose slits flared with deep aggravated breaths and his eyes glowed with a furious determination.

"Realizing that he could perform the scrying with Harry's blood alone, he made it a point to collect samples every time Harry found his way into the hospital wing, unconscious. Which has happened plenty of times," she continued, turning back to Harry, who was still huddled on the floor, barely holding himself up on his knees and fists. "Seeing as he had enough blood in stasis to last him the long haul, he began trying to work out the best way to make sure you died without it looking like _he'd_ done it. In fact, he came to the conclusion that the most effective death would be for Voldemort to be the one to kill you. He suspected that such an act might even create a powerful enough feedback loop, that Voldemort would seriously injure himself, if he were to use the killing curse against a part of his own soul.

"So, again and again, he encouraged you to risk your neck. To put yourself in harms way, and _especially_ , to stand up to Voldemort at any and every possible opportunity. He awarded you points and stole the house cup from Slytherin and gave it to Gryffindor, after you were nearly killed by Voldemort in your first year. He rewarded you again in second year when you nearly died facing Voldemort's first horcrux. He insisted you stay in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, going so far as to lead you to believe that you had no choice but to participate. Telling you that your entry was magically binding, when, in reality, it was _not_ binding, and you didn't have to participate _at all_.

"But he suspected that whatever was going on with the tournament would end with you coming face to face with Voldemort, and it was _his hope_ ," she said this with emphatic pointedness, "that you would be killed by him that night. It was his _hope_ that Voldemort, in his newly risen, and still relatively weakened state, would shoot you with a killing curse, causing a feedback loop, destroying his new body, sending himself back into another long delay of recovery, and giving Dumbledore more time to try and find all of the horcruxes and destroy them."

"Bastard," Voldemort hissed angrily through clenched teeth.

"Oh but there's more!" she said in a delighted tone.

A desperate whimper escaped Harry's throat and he clenched his fists against the waves of horror, disbelief, and utter betrayal he felt coursing through him.

" _This year_ he had Snape start teaching you Occlumency… only he didn't. He wasn't even supposed to try. He wasn't helping you build up a mental defense, he was ripping apart what little natural defense you had."

Harry's head raised and he looked at her with stunned disbelief. "Why?!"

"After what happened with Nagini — that's the snake, by the way — Dumbledore saw an opportunity to present you with new and more varied opportunities to find your way in front of Voldemort. After all, when you saw Nagini attack Mr. Weasley, had you been in the position to do so, and had there been no one else to turn to, you undoubtedly would have tried to go there yourself to save him. Putting yourself in harms way again. It's also one of the reason why he allowed himself to be driven from the school by Fudge. If he wasn't there, you couldn't go to him for help if you had another vision of someone you cared about, about to get hurt. All you had was Umbridge and Snape - at best you could have tried to go to McGonnagal, but we both know her response would be to shut you out and tell you to go back to your rooms. You never let it end with that - you _always_ have to meddle."

"Oh god," Harry moaned, feeling waves of sick, threatening to overwhelm him and he let his head fall forward and bent lower so he now rested on his entire forearms, bent at the elbows, and his head rested against the floor.

Harry realized that if all this were true, Dumbledore had basically been _hoping_ for a situation, like with Sirius, to happen. Whether it were real, or just a trap like tonight had been. Dumbledore wouldn't have cared either way, so long as Harry ended up getting himself into a mess like this, and facing up against Voldemort.

As if it weren't bad enough that Harry had fallen for Voldemort's false vision, and Sirius had come to save _him_ and… and…

But Dumbledore had tricked him too? It was just too much.

"But… but then why didn't he just let Voldemort kill me tonight? Why come in and duel him?" Harry asked, weakly raising his head to look at her.

"The opportunity to prove to Fudge and the world that Voldemort was back, was too great. You'll remember that the very first thing Dumbledore did was transfigure two of the statues to run off - they were sent to collect Fudge and the Aurors. The rest of the duel has been a delay tactic to keep Voldemort here long enough for witnesses to arrive."

Harry groaned and let his head fall back to the floor.

"Who else knows?" Voldemort asked.

The girl began giggling rather horribly, which only served to make Harry's stomach churn more.

"That's why this is _such_ a delicious secret! No one! He's managed to keep it hidden from everyone!"

"Even the horcruxes?" Voldemort asked, nearly incredulously. "He's told no one?"

"Not a soul. You'd be amazed just how little he tells his own people. They trust him so blindly, but he lies to them constantly!"

A heavy sob escaped Harry's chest. His eyes were stinging terribly and he wondered how long ago he's started crying.

"Oh, great Merlin, Potter. Get over it," Voldemort spat out with annoyance.

An incredulous bark escaped Harry's lungs and he found enough strength to push himself up to look at Voldemort incredulously. "Get over it?!" he exclaimed. "I've just been told that instead of you being the man who killed my parents, _I'm you_ , and _I_ basically killed my parents - or my _not-_ parents — right before kicking out their infant's soul, and then _stealing_ it's body, and - and - and the one man that I thought I could trust above all others - the _one_ person who I relied on to protect me _from you_ , was the one really out to kill me! How the fuck am I supposed to just _get over that!?"_

Voldemort rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "Well I just discovered that my most hated enemy had successfully made a complete fool of me and has been manipulating me to try and _kill myself_ for the better part of two decades! Not to mention that _you_ are apparently just an extension of myself, which is still a stunningly unbelievable prospect."

"I still think I win in the shitty discoveries lottery," Harry growled humorlessly, letting his head fall low again.

The fae girl made a pleased sort of humming sound and did a little pirouette in the air. Harry looked up and glared at her darkly.

"Why are you doing this? Why tell us this?" Harry asked.

"Why? How can you even _ask_ that!" she responded incredulously. "This has got to be the single most devastatingly glorious secret I've ever been able to tell! Forget telling a wife her husband has been cheating on her with her sister, or letting it slip that Mr. Smith is embezzling from the company! _This! This_ is just _fantastic_! This is _world altering!_ _One_ little secret and the entire wizarding community of Great Britain falls into utter chaos!"

"You're sick," Harry whispered incredulously.

"This is what she _does_ , Potter," Voldemort said in an annoyed, impatient tone. "It's how her kind live. Time and consequence are their playground. They exist outside the normal flow of time. Being able to change the flow of time _feeds_ them. Merlin, _this_ should keep her fed for a century."

She grinned widely and made a please humming sound. "You have no idea," she said gleefully.

"So is that it, or is there _more?_ " Voldemort asked.

"Hmmmm… I suppose that's _mostly_ it. I could tell you a few other things, though. But they really only pertain to _you."_

Voldemort pinned her with suspicious eyes. "Like?"

"Well, it's not really a _secret_ that anyone's kept from you, but it's just barely connected enough to the rest of all this, that I _could_ still tell you about it."

Voldemort made an impatient growling noise. "Get on with it!" he snapped.

She grinned and floated into a position that one would see from a girl laying on a bed, propping herself up on her elbows with one leg bent up at the knee. Except she wasn't laying on anything, and was instead floating mid-air.

"Welll… there's a common misconception about horcruxes. Basically the idea that destroying the horcrux destroys the soul inside it. Not so. Destroying the horcrux - _the vessel_ \- just sets the soul loose so that it's no longer anchored to anything. So it basically becomes useless, but it's not destroyed. Just free. The longer a piece of soul remains disconnected from the main body, or the stasis spell of a horcrux, the more that piece of soul will gradually degrade, so it _can_ eventually lead to the souls destruction. It just takes a very long time."

"I fail to see the point of this tangent," Voldemort growled impatiently.

"Your diary was destroyed. The piece of soul contained within that horcrux now sits floating about in the ambient magic of the Chamber of Secrets, serving no purpose but to slowly dissipate. Are you aware of just _how much_ of your soul was contained in that book?" She asked pointedly.

Voldemort blinked at her, thrown off somewhat by the question.

"What do you _mean_ , 'how much'?"

"Well, I said it earlier, didn't I? Split in half! You make a horcrux and you split your soul in _half!_ That diary was your first, so how much does it contain? A whole _half_ of a soul! You can hardly be blamed for the confusion though, the one book you had that detailed _anything_ about horcruxes honestly did make it sound like you were just breaking off a small piece. There are better books now, of course. In fact there's a book written a decade ago by an Indian wizard named Rilind Bandi - you might want to look that up, by the way. But youthful ignorance aside, the mistake was made, and the simple reality is that half of your soul went into that book, and now half of your soul is slowly withering away down in the Chamber of Secrets." She made another pleased sort of giggle and smiled at him gleefully.

Voldemort's face slackened with a sort of horror that Harry doubted the man showed often.

"Wait… so… that's my soul too, right?" Harry said with a sudden, horrible dawning.

"Mmm, yes it is," she confirmed giving him a lazy grin. "But of course, the piece of soul in your body has been growing and thriving all these years, so you've got the equivalent of a whole soul in you right now anyway. The remnant of soul left in Voldemort's current body is so minuscule, he'll likely fall apart in the next ten years, at best. And then… why then, all that would be left is you! Voldemort withers away leaving only Harry…" She turned her gaze back to Voldemort, "Unless, of course, you should choose to reabsorb the bits of soul you've lost or locked in various objects."

"You're suggesting I _reabsorb_ the horcruxes?!" Voldemort exclaimed.

" _That_ is up to you. But I do think that reabsorbing _at least_ the piece that was in the diary, would really be in your best interest. After all, it's not like it's doing any good right now anyway. Reabsorbing it, and any other loose bits and pieces that might have broken off over the years, will at least give you a decent bit of soul to work off of. If you want to go any further than that, it's up to you."

"Why, exactly, would I _want_ to go further than that?" Voldemort asked exasperated.

"You're power, of course! Fix some of the damage to your soul and your power level will rise, considerably. Your focus and control will improve. Restore enough of your soul and you'll even regain the ability to manipulate wandless magic that you had when you were a child!"

Voldemort's eyes flashed with interest now, and Harry gaped at the floating fairy girl with horror. _Voldemort, even more powerful?_ Was she trying to destroy the world!?

 _One little secret and the entire wizarding community of Great Britain falls into utter chaos!_

Merlin… maybe she was.

"So how do I get to this piece of my soul, down in the chamber?" Voldemort asked in a scathing tone.

"That book I mentioned a bit ago? the one written by the Indian wizard? Find it. There's a spell in it for summoning _all_ the bits of your soul that are just floating about aimlessly. You don't even have to break into the school. Just do it from the comfort of whatever place you feel like doing it from."

Voldemort's heavy brow raised with interest. "It sounds too easy."

She scoffed. "Easy, he says," she rolled her eyes. "I suppose to a necromancer of your skill, it just might be. It's hardly a simple spell. But, whatever. At this point, I do believe I've said as much as I care to."

Harry let out a humorless laugh. "What, that's all? Nothing _more_ devastating to drop on me and destroy my entire world with?"

"Well, if you insist —"

"No!" Harry yelled, and she just started laughing at him.

"This is goodnight, gentlemen. Oh, and Harry - one word of advice. Don't tell Dumbledore what you've learned here tonight. He'll kill you within the week, if he realizes you know."

Harry felt his throat close up and his chest tighten with a terrible heat.

"Be seeing you around, boys!" she teased playfully, flying up towards the high atrium ceiling, and slowly vanishing from view as she went.

Harry stared at the empty space where she'd vanished, for a stunned moment, feeling as if his entire world was floating in the air, waiting to crash down upon him the second he breathed. Suddenly he felt a strong jerking and looked to see Voldemort grabbing his arm and pulling him up.

"Hey!" Harry yelled.

"You're coming with me, Potter," Voldemort bit out sharply. Harry noticed at this point that their surroundings seemed to be slowly restarting, as the smoke in the air was moving slightly, and the water in the fountain looked as if it were moving in slow motion but slowly speeding up.

"No way!" Harry shouted, pulling his arm away sharply, and shakily standing up.

"You want to stay here with _him!?"_ Voldemort snapped, jerking his head towards the still near-motionless Dumbledore.

"I'm not in danger as long as he doesn't know that I know!"

"You're _always_ in danger with that damned fool!"

"I'm in danger because he keeps trying to arrange us running into each other and _you_ trying to kill me. Now, you know better - _right?"_

Voldemort scoffed and shook his head. "It's too risky! I'm not leaving you here with him!"

"Well _I'm_ not going with you!" Harry snapped back.

Voldemort growled in frustration and looked around. The room was slowly moving faster and faster and it wouldn't be but a moment more before time fully resumed.

" _Fine_ ," Voldemort growled in frustration. "But don't think this ends here. I will be paying you a visit - _and soon._ "

Sounds were starting to pull back into what had been an eerily echoey silence before. The sound was strangely distorted, but quickly bending into a more normal sound. And then things were moving again, and the sound was normal, and the chaos that had been Dumbledore and Voldemort's duel before, was back in full swing, except now, Harry was no longer being possessed, and Voldemort had stopped fighting back against Dumbledore. Harry glanced over and watched as Voldemort ran to Bellatrix who had been immobilized this entire time, thanks to Dumbledore, and set her free of the spell. He grabbed her arm before looking over at Dumbledore who was looking quite confused by the sudden shift in events.

A flash from the Floos illuminated the room with green flames for a moment, drawing their attention. Harry blinked as he saw Fudge, in his pajamas, followed by a group of aurors, emerge from the giant hearths and then stand and blink in shock as they in-turn saw Harry's group.

Voldemort let out an annoyed growl before turning on the spot and disapparating with Bellatrix in tow.

What followed was a blur to Harry as he mostly zoned out. Dumbledore told Fudge that there were Death Eaters being held down in the Department of Mysteries, and pointed out that Fudge himself had just _seen_ Voldemort with his own eyes, so he could hardly deny it any longer. Dumbledore also demanded that Umbridge be removed from Hogwarts, and then gave Harry a Portkey that took him back to the school, depositing him in the headmaster's office.

Harry sat, motionless and numb, in the chair opposite Dumbledore's desk, as the old wizard took the blame for Sirius' death. Harry felt a raging fire trying to build just beneath the surface, but he was so shocked and numb from the discoveries of the last half hour or so, that he didn't think he could process or even face those feelings.

There was just too much.

Harry's soul? Dumbledore's betrayal of Harry and his parents. The question as to whether or not Harry even had the right to call James and Lily his parents, at all. The revelation that Dumbledore had betrayed Sirius as well - he knew that Sirius hadn't been the secret keeper, all along, and that Wormtail had been the spy. Dumbledore had used Sirius as a pawn, making Harry care about him so that Voldemort could use him as bait.

Harry feared that if he responded to anything Dumbledore said, the horror and anger over everything else - everything that he _wasn't supposed to know_ \- would come spilling out. So he kept it bottled in and sat there wishing for the night to end.

And then Dumbledore said the words Harry hadn't been prepared to hear. Not now. Not after all of this…

"It is time," he said, "for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience."

Only he didn't tell him everything. Harry realized now that everything Dumbledore said after that point was just as much a lie as anything else had ever been.

Dumbledore told Harry about a prophecy. About _why_ Voldemort had been after Harry all these years. He pulled out his pensieve and displayed a memory of Trelawney saying the fated words that the fae girl had spoken less than an hour ago. Except this one included an end the fae hadn't bothered to add.

"The end of the prophecy… it was something about… 'neither can live…'"

"'…while the other survives,'" said Dumbledore.

"So," said Harry, dredging up the words from what felt like a deep well of despair inside him, "so does that mean that… that one of us has got to kill the other one… in the end?"

Of course that was how Dumbledore would end it. But Harry would have never had a chance of being the victor in a battle against Voldemort. Harry would have felt obligated to try, but it would have been a lost cause from the start. Harry would be the one to die by the hands of the Dark Lord, giving Dumbledore exactly what he wanted.

Harry felt as if he were about to vomit.

The next couple days were a haze to Harry. Sirius was dead and it was as much Harry's fault as anything could be. But it was Dumbledore's fault too. Probably more so. In fact, _everything_ was Dumbledore's fault, and the more Harry's mind went in an endless loop of despair, horror, guilt, and anger, the more he _hated_ Dumbledore.

At one point he tried to convince himself the fae girl could have been working with Voldemort and the whole story was an elaborate hoax to get Harry to end his allegiance to Dumbledore. But when he asked his friends about some sort of Sidhe-fae who reveals people's secrets, they'd all heard of them. Ron had grown up with stories of them, Hermione had, of course, read about them, and Luna had some very strange things to say about them. In the end, Harry felt fairly convinced that it really was possible that what she'd said was entirely true, and in fact, looked to be the most likely one.

They'd wondered as to why he'd asked, but he'd managed to dodge their questions and escape to the outer grounds where he sat at the edge of the lake and just thought and tried to work out his muddled mind.

Term was over now and all that was left was to return home for the summer. Harry dreaded returning to the Dursley's, and spent most of the train ride back to London staring out the window, wishing he could find a hole and crawl inside it forever.

Hermione had a copy of the Daily Prophet and pointed out that their articles were far more favorable to him now.

"A lone voice of truth… perceived as unbalanced, yet never wavered in his story… forced to bear ridicule and slander…'" she had read aloud, obviously hoping to cheer him up to some degree.

It didn't help.

The only positive event of any note was upon their arrival at Kings Cross, Harry was greeted by almost the entirety of the Order, who then proceeded to intimidate the Dursley's into submission.

Upon his arrival back at Privet Drive Harry made his way numbly up to his room where he proceeded to flop himself down onto his bed and stare up at the ceiling in silence.

What now?

He felt as if his entire future had crumbled and he was left with a giant question mark.

It wasn't as if he was suddenly going to join up with Voldemort. The man was still insane; still violent; still a psychopath. It didn't really matter if the man was no longer going to try to kill Harry - Harry still couldn't just stand back and do nothing as the monster ran wild across wizarding Britain, destroying everything in his path in a bid for power.

In fact, Harry was almost _more_ responsible for the wizard now, seeing as how he and Voldemort were apparently… one person. So, in a way, _part of Harry_ was running around killing and torturing people and waging a war against the ministry.

But he couldn't kill Voldemort, because he _was_ … part of Voldemort? Harry wasn't honestly sure if he even understood it all. The fae girl and Voldemort had talked a lot about souls and horcruxes, and Harry had barely been able to follow it at the time. Trying to think back on that hectic, insane, night and remember details was proving to be difficult.

It was the day after Harry's return to Privet Drive and the sun had just set. Harry's aunt had called out earlier that dinner was ready, but Harry had ignored her and stayed in his room. He wanted to just close his eyes and shut his brain off. He felt he was just waiting to fall asleep, so he could stop thinking, at least for a little while, when suddenly he realized he wasn't alone in his room.

Harry jumped and yelped in shock as he realized a face was floating mid-air, inches from his own.

Giggling filled the room as Harry pushed himself up on his bed and against the wall.

"Wha-?" Harry managed to get out as he realized there was a naked fae floating in his room, smiling smugly at him.

"What the hell are _you_ doing here?!" Harry managed to say before diverting his eyes. "And can you _please_ put something on this time? Do you _have_ to be naked?!"

She cackled in response, clearly pleased with his discomfort and earning her an angry glare from Harry a moment later.

"I just wanted to give you a little heads up - surely you'd like to stay in the loop as things progress?" she said innocently.

"What _things?_ " Harry exclaimed.

"Voldemort and his soul, of course," she said as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world. " _Your_ soul."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I really couldn't care less, honestly."

"Oh, but I think you should," she said, grinning wickedly.

Harry glared at her. "Fine. What?" he spat.

"Voldemort managed to summon all of the disconnected bits of soul, last night. So everything that was left from the Diary horcrux, as well as a few shards that had been lost here and there, over the years as he went about killing so many people, shattering his soul to teeny little festering bits."

Harry gave her nothing but a flat, disinterested glare in return, so she pressed on.

"Tonight, he's going to be performing a ritual to reincorporate it all back into his current body."

"So?" Harry said, internally hating the idea that Voldemort was apparently going to end up even _more_ powerful now, thanks to this meddling little monster.

She smiled wickedly. "So… I _might_ have neglected to mention to him, a few side-effects, that will likely come along with a significantly larger soul than he's been running off of all these years."

Harry's brow furrowed and he sat up a bit straighter, his interest peaked.

"What side-effects?"

"Why, his humanity, of course. He wasn't _born_ a monster, Harry. He's perfectly capable of being a very decent human being - you're proof of that, in fact. The creature he became is a direct result of running a body off of such a minuscule, mutilated bit of human soul. He became a monster as a _result_ of making so many horcruxes and trying to run a living body off of the tiny remnants left over."

"You're saying he'll… stop being a monster?" Harry asked, dubiously.

"I'm saying, that he's going to wake up from this ritual a _changed man_ in a much larger sense than he bargained for."

"And you're telling me this, why?"

"I suspect he'll seek you out, very soon. He'll need you."

Harry felt wary at that statement. " _Need me?_ How so?" Harry asked cautiously.

"You'll see," she said, grinning and floating through the air, further back, giving him more space, but also giving him a broader view of her nakedness. Harry looked down, feeling his face get hot with embarrassment.

"Great, thanks oh-cryptic-one," Harry said sarcastically.

Harry looked up after a moment of silence where he'd expected some annoying remark or obnoxious giggles, but came up short when he suddenly realized he was alone.

She'd vanished.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Finding the book by Rilind Bandi hadn't been difficult for him, given his connections. Reading through it had been irritating, because it detailed so many things that he'd had to figure out the hard way, or completely improvise on when he was younger.

Virtually every culture had taboos against practicing any form of necromantic magic, and manipulation of the soul fell into that category. Thus it had always been difficult to find information on soul manipulation, and especially on horcruxes. Voldemort had, in fact, invented a great many of the spells he'd used over the years, in the creation and protection of his horcruxes. A fact of which, he was quite proud. Still - this information would have been far more useful years - _no decades_ \- ago.

Despite all of the advances he'd managed to uncover on the subject, he had still been missing some vital information. Information that Rilind Bandi had apparently uncovered during numerous trips to New Guinea, where he'd consulted with an extremely isolated tribe of wizards who frequently practiced soul manipulation as part of their traditions, and had no taboo against the subject.

Bandi's book was a treasure trove of information, and had fully detailed the process of summoning any pieces of a fractured soul that were not anchored to anything. It covered the creation of a small vessel that would temporarily hold the soul pieces in such a way that they could incubate and merge together more wholly, before attempting to put them back into a body.

His fractured diary horcrux had been doing just that for the last day, and Voldemort was just about satisfied that the cracks between the pieces had healed together enough that he could reincorporate it into his body. It could heal further _in_ his body, of course, but he was hesitantly willing to admit that his body was perhaps not a very good environment for such healing to take place.

The book had detailed a sort of mental degradation that often took place when a soul was broken apart and not given the proper environment to heal and recover from the damage of creating a horcrux. Voldemort hated to admit it, but he had, perhaps, experienced a great many of the things mentioned in the text. Some of it seemed frivolous, and hardly as detrimental as the book made it out to be.

Reduced empathy, shifted moral standard, lack of comprehension of certain types of consequences… it was the sort of wishy-washy nonsense that Dumbledore would often preach to his gullible followers. Empathy and morals were weaknesses that Voldemort had rid himself of years ago.

But the parts the book described in regards to degraded reasoning faculties _did_ catch his interest. Deductions, creativity, problem solving… those were more striking to him, as he had to reluctantly admit, he _had_ sensed a decline in these traits over the years.

 _A tendency towards obsessive behavior over irrational or inconsequential matters._

Perhaps… perhaps this was true as well.

If restoring this portion of his soul would help resolve these deficits, then it would be worth it. And it wasn't as if he couldn't split his soul again and put most of this back into another horcrux, after he'd reabsorbed it, if he felt so inclined to do that.

He just couldn't do it until after he'd incorporated the soul first.

And leaving it floating about was just stupid and pointless. It would slowly degrade, and there was no value in letting that happen.

No, absorbing it was clearly the only real option.

He was currently in a small cottage that he had acquired during the war in the 70's, and virtually forgotten about since then. He _had_ used it periodically as a safehouse, and had retreated there after leaving Bellatrix to her own devices at Malfoy Manor. Obviously she had needed to find a hiding place of her own, but Voldemort hadn't cared to ask where, as he'd obviously had more pressing matters to attend to.

Lucius had gotten himself captured, so of course, the Aurors had come to Malfoy Manor to perform a thorough search. Voldemort had been prepared, of course. He never left much there anyway, and what he had stored there, he'd taken with him when he left.

Now he and Nagini were alone, and he was nearly ready to perform the ritual. Fortunately there were no special requirements like waiting until a certain phase of the moon, or brewing a 3-month long potion, to prepare for this ritual. The most complicated aspect had been a runic circle that he'd had to 'inscribe' on the floor with salt. And while mildly tedious, it was hardly that difficult to accomplish if you'd done that sort of thing before. Which he had.

Now he sat himself in the center of his inscription, careful not to disturb any of the salt, as it would only be protected once the ritual had started. He held the small glass ball that had been the temporary incubator of his soul for the last 24 hours in his hand and began to chant, low and quiet, while holding the ball against his chest and focusing his magic. The chant was long, but repetitive and had been simple enough to memorize. He droned on, melodically, feeling himself slip into meditative daze.

The magic was swirling about now, and he could feel his magic reaching out and grasping hold of the soul in the orb. He chanted louder now, putting more and more of his focus and will towards his desire of reclaiming his lost soul pieces. He wanted it. He _needed_ it.

And he would have it!

A flash of light and power engulfed him and he felt a hot fire, deep in his chest, as the soul from the orb filled him and encompassed the piece of his soul that had already been there, engulfing it and drastically overwhelming it.

There was pain, and power, and light and fire and everything _hurt_. He screamed out, feeling an overwhelming array of feelings seem to course through him like angry waves crashing violently against a rocky cliff face.

He collapsed forward, dropping the now empty ball and being distantly aware of it rolling away somewhere as he fell on his elbows disturbing the salt, but it hardly mattered now as the ritual was complete. He was aware distantly that he was crying out and babbling nonsense. His breathing was fast and erratic and he felt dizzy and overwhelmed and terrified.

And then there was darkness as he collapsed on his side and fell into unconsciousness.

— —

Harry walked numbly down Privet Drive, past Wisteria Walk and towards a small local park. He felt numb, more than anything else, and would have preferred to remain in his bedroom, but his Aunt had kicked him out of the house since she was apparently having a neighbor over for tea that afternoon.

It was now three days since the fae had visited Harry, and he hadn't really given her words too much more thought since then. It was just so vague and cryptic, and he hardly had any way to find out if anything had come of it. He didn't even know what was going on in the wizarding world as a whole, thanks to his utter isolation here at Privet Drive.

He hadn't gotten a single letter, nor did he get the Daily Prophet - a fact that left him with a foul taste in his mouth. He'd ordered a subscription earlier in the year and it _should_ have been coming over the summer. The fact that it wasn't left him convinced that his post was being blocked or tampered with.

Thinking about it, in fact, Harry realized it was probably quite odd that he never gotten much mail from random strangers. Theoretically, all it would take is for someone to write his name on a letter and send it out with an owl, and it would have a decent chance of making it. If you had a bright enough owl, you didn't need a full address on the letter.

But he'd never gotten fan mail, or hate mail, or any mail of any sort.

It made him grumble quietly, putting one more rock on the now towering pile of grievances he had with Dumbledore.

Grievances he couldn't do anything about.

It was utterly frustrating.

But stewing on all of the things he had to be angry about was the only thing that worked at taking Harry's mind off the thing he had to be most miserable about. Sirius.

Harry had been having nightmares since that night at the Ministry, and while they varied and occasionally focused on something horribly disturbing, like looking in the mirror and seeing Snake-Face staring back at him, the far more common subject of his nightmares was Sirius falling through the Veil and vanishing into nothing.

A very real part of Harry wished now that Lupin hadn't managed to hold him back.

Perhaps everything would be better if Harry had just followed Sirius into the veil and died with him.

He could have at least died ignorant of who he shared a soul with.

But what would happen to Harry when he died?

It wasn't like Harry knew anything about the afterlife - no one did, really. So there was no telling what happened to a person _normally_ when they died, let alone what happened to someone who was just half of a multi-part soul.

Did he even get an after life? Would their soul re-merge for whatever their afterlife would be? The Sidhe had said that if Voldemort didn't fix his soul that _he_ would break apart, leaving only Harry… which probably would have been really nice, except that she had to go and tell him about it, so he'd probably already taken steps to make sure that wouldn't happen, now.

Harry found himself at the park, not even entirely aware of when he'd gotten there, as he'd just been walking on auto-pilot while lost in his thoughts. A strange buzzing seemed to be tickling at the back of his brain, and he noticed it now as it became louder and more obvious. Feeling his gaze pulled in a certain direction, like a compass needle, pulled north, Harry found himself staring at a lone park bench, under a large old tree, some distance away. The bench had someone sitting at it, and Harry squinted his eyes, feeling for a moment that the person looked vaguely familiar.

Without really telling his legs to do so, Harry found himself walking towards the bench, but his steps faltered and slowed as he got close enough to really _see_ the person.

"Shit," Harry said flatly. He sighed heavily and found that he had resumed walking towards the man, although he could hardly say why. He supposed that if _He_ was here, running away was pointless. Plus, he had to admit that he was curious as to how Voldemort had managed to make himself look so very different.

The man looked up at Harry as he approached, and he had a peculiar expression on his new face. He almost looked… was it _sad?_ Worried?

It was weird, whatever it was.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, flatly.

The man chuckled weakly and shook his head. "Straight to the point. You know, part of me had wondered if you'd even recognize me."

"I saw you - _Tom Riddle_ \- from the diary when I was 12. I mean, you look _older_ here, but you still look like him," Harry responded. The man sitting there did resemble the 16 year old Tom Riddle that Harry had seen in his visions from the Diary, with the most obvious difference being that this man looked like he would more likely pass for 30. His hair was a bit feathered and shaggy - certainly longer than it had been on the 16 year old Tom Riddle Harry had seen, but not terribly long. It was just above chin-length, black, and partially covering his face. His nose was strong, and his dark eyes were shadowed deeply beneath a strong brow, giving him a rather sad quality that Harry hadn't really seen in him in his younger incarnation.

"So what's with the face? I mean, I guess it makes sense that you'd have to wear a disguise if you wanted to go out in public and not cause a panic…"

"Believe it or not… it's no disguise."

Harry arched a single dubious brow. "Huh? What's that mean?" he asked.

"Eloquent as always, I see. I… you know when the Sidhe told me about the diary's soul being free of any sort of vessel, and how I could reincorporate it?"

"Yeah?"

"Well… I did. And… I…"

Harry's brow was furrowed and he watched the man before him as he seemed to struggle to find the words.

"I woke up… like this," he finally said, making a motion with his hands, palm up in a sort of shrugging motion.

"You… pulled a piece of your old soul back in, and woke up with a new face?" Harry asked almost disbelievingly.

"Yes. It was quite… unexpected. Much of this was… unexpected."

"So why are you _here?"_ Harry asked, feeling strangely uncomfortable with the unusual situation and wishing it would just end.

Voldemort ducked his head and Harry was stuck by how strangely human a gesture it was. Voldemort let out a small weak chuckle and shook his lowered head. "I… honestly don't know. I just… needed someone to speak to, I suppose."

Now this was getting _really_ weird.

"And you came to _me?_ " Harry asked incredulously.

"There's hardly anyone else I could go to," Voldemort pointed out, looking back up and making eye contact. "Would you join me? Just for a bit?"

He motioned towards the bench beside him and Harry looked at it as if it were infested with termites.

His instincts were at war with each other. One half of him was screaming _Run!_ while the other felt the need to stay and follow this thing through. Something big had happened here, he realized, and he'd never understand it if he ran away now.

Reluctantly, Harry sat down on the bench beside Voldemort, although he sat as far down from the other man as the small bench had room to allow.

Voldemort was sitting hunched over with his feet spread apart and his elbows now resting on his knees. He looked out over the park with an unfocused gaze and was quiet for a moment. "The Sidhe tricked me, you know. She did this on purpose, of that, I'm sure."

Harry blinked at him, wondering now if he should mention the unexpected visit he'd gotten several nights earlier, but opted not to in the end. Instead he asked, "Did what?"

"Convincing me to restore such a substantial portion of my soul. She tempted me with the promise of increased power. She knew that would be enough that I would overlook what other effects would come of such an action. I… I didn't realize…" he trailed off, looking into the distance with a troubled expression.

Harry found himself leaning forward now as well, turned and trying to observe the man as best as he could.

Suddenly Voldemort turned and looked Harry right in the eyes, causing Harry to flinch slightly in surprise.

"There is actually a small part of me legitimately feels like I was sixteen years old last week. I… It's like, I went to sleep and woke up fifty years later to discover that a monster had been walking around in my skin, destroying everything… doing the most horrible…" he stopped suddenly and turned to look away, putting his hand up to his mouth and stifling a choking sort of sound.

Harry's jaw dropped and he slowly closed it.

Voldemort heaved a heavy sigh and rubbed his hand roughly over his face.

"But another part of me knows perfectly well that I wasn't just _asleep_ … There are moments where I feel younger and disconnected from my past, but many others where I know full well that I most certainly am not. I… I cannot push away the blame nor pretend that I was not an active participant in what I did. I remember every moment of the last fifty-some years… I remember doing the things that I did. I remember _thinking_ the things I thought. I remember the _reasoning_ and supposed _logic_ I believed those years… and it's just so… insane." He shook his head, looking utterly bewildered and disbelieving. "I had completely lost my mind. I…" he swallowed thickly taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

"I remember telling myself, as I prepared the ritual to reincorporate the soul that this was as far as I would take it. The very suggestion of reincorporating any of the other horcruxes was absurd to me then. Surely, she was overstating how big a deal it was that I'd split my soul so much, and in any case, this piece was the largest of them all and would have the biggest effect on healing whatever damages the Sidhe said my soul had suffered.

"But I realize now… I have to keep going. I have to reabsorb all of the horcruxes - or at least… as many of them as I can. I'll leave you, obviously - I rather doubt I even _could_ absorb you, and… Nagini as well. But I think I'll need to restore the rest. I _have_ to."

Harry blinked at him in silence for a moment. "Uh… why?" he asked finally.

Voldemort turned and looked Harry in the eyes again, and the look was so intense, so _desperate_ , that Harry found he couldn't look away.

"Because it could happen again," Voldemort whispered desperately. "My soul is bigger now — healed some — _but it's not enough_. My soul is still so… _broken_. It'll continue to deteriorate from here, and I could end up like _that_ again. I could…" He stopped and closed his eyes for a moment and looked down at his knees. "I cannot risk ever becoming that monster again," he said finally in a quiet voice.

Harry gaped at him. Could this actually be _real?_

"So… I mean… what do you expect _me_ to do?" Harry asked.

Voldemort chuckled weakly and sighed. "Nothing, Harry. I don't expect you to do anything. I just… talking with Nagini only gets me so far. She's brilliant for a snake, but she's still _just a snake_ , and will only ever understand so much of what I tell her. Concepts of souls and healing are a bit over her head. And the… _emotional… she…"_ he trailed off, looking down and away so Harry had trouble seeing his face.

"I just had to _tell someone,_ " he finally forced out. "But no one else would understand. No one else knows the context…" He pushed out another heavy breath and sat a bit straighter, glancing towards Harry. "You owe me nothing. I've wronged you more than I've wronged most, and I've wronged a great many people. We share a soul, but what does that even mean in the real world of things? You're still your own person, and the two of us being one astral being does not diminish the fact that we are two separate physical and mental individuals. I've made your life a living hell, and it doesn't matter if Dumbledore tricked me in this way or that. He may share a portion of the blame for manipulating the circumstances, but I still hold responsibility for allowing myself to be manipulated."

He turned more fully now, looking Harry right in the eye, intensely. "I have hurt you, and I'm sorry. So sorry… but what good does an apology do, when so much pain has been endured? So much loss, suffered?" He sighed and shook his head. "Just… just know that I won't let it happen again."

Harry remained silent, as he simply had no idea what to say in response to _that_. He felt cold and stunned and confused. Paranoid disbelief warred with the very real wonder at the potential consequences, if this turned out to be real.

After a moment of thought, Harry spoke. "Okay."

Voldemort turned and gave him a confused look. "Okay?"

"You wanted someone to talk to? Okay. Talk."

Voldemort's lips parted wordlessly for a moment as he seemed to mentally flounder, not having expected that response. Finally he seemed to come to a decision because he nodded his head lightly.

"Thank you," he whispered.

Nothing but silence filled the space between them for several long minutes after that. Harry found himself watching a pair of birds who appeared to be building a nest in a tree not far from their bench.

"I wasn't born a monster, you know." Voldemort said in a quiet, sad sort of voice, out of nowhere. "Dumbledore would probably have the world believe I was born a psychopath, or at least a sociopath, and he was the only one who could see me for the monster I truly was. That everyone else just fell for my act, and only he saw the truth. I'm not sure if he honestly believes that, or if he just tells himself that to try and ease his conscience." Voldemort paused for a moment before beginning again. "I'm a half-blood, but I believe you already knew that, right?"

Harry blinked at him and nodded. "Yeah, I know."

Voldemort nodded and went back to looking out at the mostly empty park before them. "My mother was a witch, but she died in childbirth. My father, _a muggle,_ abandoned her while she was pregnant. Left her penniless and alone in London, while he ran back home to mummy and daddy." He scowled slightly before sighing. "I grew up in a muggle orphanage, mostly during the 1930's, and I was constantly experiencing inexplicable bursts of accidental magic. I always had an excess of magic, and when I was a child, it caused a great deal of trouble for me. I was ostracized, and the local priest who visited the orphanage fairly regularly became convinced I was possessed by some terrible evil. He… he…" Voldemort paused for a moment, staring into the park in silence. "He subjected me to several exorcisms when I was seven. It was terribly traumatic. The other children all knew about it, of course, and all of the strange things that happened around me. No one wanted anything to do with me, so I tried to keep to myself.

"But at some point, I began to see patterns in what happened around me. When it happened. How it happened. I worked and worked to control the strange things, and became rather proficient at it. I had a remarkable control over wandless magic by age 10, which I learned later on, at Hogwarts, is nearly unprecedented.

"But I never _hurt_ any of the other children. I did stoop to scaring a few of them when I felt especially threatened, but I _never hurt anyone_." He said this in an almost pleading voice as he looked into Harrys eyes. As if, desperate for Harry to believe him.

Harry nodded, not sure what else he could do.

"Dumbledore came to the orphanage the spring after I turned 11. He was the Deputy Headmaster at the time, and it was his job to visit the muggleborns and explain to their family members, or guardians about the magical world and the school.

"He spoke with the matron of the orphanage first, and I know she probably warned him about me being _strange_. About the other children being _afraid_ of me. When he finally came to me, I had trouble believing him at first. I thought it was a trick that the matron and the priest has concocted to get me sent away to an asylum. When I finally _did_ believe him, I was so _excited_. I remember how elated I was to think that there was a place out there where I wouldn't be a freak. A place where the other kids wouldn't instinctively fear me, because I was different.

"But then I made my first and greatest mistake. I told Dumbledore that I could speak to snakes." Voldemort let out a sad sounding chuckle and shook his head. "I can still remember the look in his eyes after I said that. His entire countenance shifted. His body language was enough to tell me that I'd just admitted to something really very terrible.

"What I couldn't have known at the time, was that Dumbledore held a very deep and powerful hatred of parselmouths. The world sees him as a beacon for equality, and a force that stands against the prejudices of the purebloods, but the truth of the matter is that he's just a monumental hypocrite. He was terribly prejudiced himself, probably even more so back then than today, although it's possible that the feelings are just as strong in him now, only he hides it better.

"But anything to do with Slytherin house, and especially direct Slytherin lineage set him on edge. He _hated_ the Slytherin line and had believed it had died out. Finding me made him realize that there was still a descendent of the Slytherin line left alive, and he didn't like that one bit.

"His reaction had been so strong that I never told another soul that I was a parselmouth until all the way through third year, when I first read a book that discussed the talent and it's connection to the Slytherin line. And even then, I only told a few select people that I felt I could trust.

"I had come to Hogwarts hoping for acceptance and finding others like myself, but was instead met with a new sort of prejudice and mistrust. As far as anyone was concerned, I was a muggleborn, or as good as one. I had no pedigree; no wizarding heritage that I could lay claim to. I was raised in the muggle world and knew nothing about wizarding traditions.

"I was a muggleborn, sorted into Slytherin House. I'm sure you can imagine, Harry, that this was not an enjoyable experience to find oneself in." He let out a small weak chuckle and shook his head tiredly.

"I focused on my studies instead. I was a teacher's pet, through and through, so many of them came to like me a great deal. But Dumbledore always watched me with wary, cautious eyes. And I discovered at some point that he'd even gone so far as to warn some of the other professors to keep an eye out for me, as he was convinced that I was hiding things, and tricking and using them so I could secretly study forbidden arts.

"I didn't even delve into Dark Arts at all until forth year! Believe it or not, I'd been pretty straight and narrow until that point. But I was afraid… You see, every summer I returned to the orphanage, and the other children were jealous and bitter. Why did _I_ get to go off to a special boarding school? Why did _I_ get to be well-fed and warm while they were stuck on rations and froze each night because the furnace was always broken. They'd already been convinced I was a freak, but now they resented me even more. I… endured a lot. The first time they got seriously violent I tried to defend myself, but got a warning within minutes from the Ministry stating that if I used magic in front of any muggles even one more time, I'd be expelled. The only thing I feared more than dying, was getting expelled and having my wand snapped. The idea of being stuck at that orphanage until I turned 16 or 17, only to end up in the local work house, or worse, was enough to keep me from using magic to protect myself.

"Every year when I returned to Hogwarts, I tried all I could think of to find somewhere I could go in the summers that was safer. But _Dumbledore_ was the main obstacle in my way. I went to him first. I wanted to go to Headmaster Dippet, but I couldn't see him without going through Dumbledore first, and Dumbledore never let me get further than him. When I tried to go through other avenues, he used his influence to recommend against anyone helping me. He said they couldn't make _exceptions_. At first, I believed that he was doing it because he thought I was looking for a way away from the muggles due to a prejudice. Basically, that he believed I thought I was better than them, so I shouldn't have to go back to that orphanage each summer. I tried to explain to him that wasn't the case. I told him I was afraid for my life, but he never budged. I later came to suspect that he _wanted_ those muggles to kill me. It was the easiest way to wipe out the last of Slytherin's line.

"The summer between forth and fifth year was the worst. I ended up in hospital, they beat me so badly, and I barely managed to get on the train back to Hogwarts by September 1st. I spent my first two nights in the hospital wing, getting the first decent treatment I'd seen. The matron told me I'd nearly died. It terrified me. I became convinced that if I went back one more summer without some degree of protection, I was going to end up dead. I became desperate. I turned to the Dark Arts books that so many of my housemates kept hidden in their trunks and beneath their beds.

"My head of house basically gave me standing access to the restricted section for whatever research I might want, and that was the first time I really took advantage of it to look up things that I knew were deeply frowned upon.

"I was a prodigy, and I knew it. I was significantly more powerful than my peers, and I knew that too. I looked down on a lot of them, but I'll admit now it was mostly a defense mechanism to make up for the fact that even my own housemates ostracized me.

"If I was better than them, it hardly mattered if they didn't want to talk to me. They were _beneath_ me, so what did it matter?"

"But I was _not_ evil," he whispered fervently. "Just scared… and naive. So naive." He let his head fall forward and rest it in his hands.

Harry felt stunned, honestly. It was a lot to process, but he found so many parallels in their lives. Voldemort had had it worse, he realized, and he couldn't honestly say if he would have done things much differently, had he been in the man's shoes.

"I had already found the Chamber, some time before I discovered horcruxes. I'd spent many hours down there, just reading in solitude. The basilisk was in a deep hibernating sleep, but I'd seen it. When I realized that the only way to create a horcrux was to kill someone, I nearly gave up on it. But I became determined. I'd made up my mind and decided I was going to follow through, no matter what. I had to be the direct cause of another person's death, and know that it was my fault, but I didn't have to cast the spell or strike them down on my own. I realized that I could use the basilisk to kill someone and it would still be acceptable to meet the requirements of the spell. I figured that a basilisk stare would be instantaneous enough death that whoever died wouldn't feel any pain, and the murder would be blamed on the creature, not me… I made all sorts of mental excuses to try and make it _okay_.

"I used the myth of the Chamber of Secrets as a cover, but every time I took the basilisk out, and it came down to an opportunity to kill someone…" he chuckled weakly, "I choked. I chickened out every time. I'd always end up throwing up some sort of distraction or object that made the student see the basilisk through a reflection instead. I kept going back and forth, telling myself that I couldn't do it, and people were getting hurt, and then telling myself I _had_ to do it.

"I was just about set on ending the whole thing one night after a particularly close call. I was returning to the chamber and the basilisk was following when suddenly I realized there was a girl in the bathroom with us. And before I could react… she was dead…" he trailed off, staring into the distance with unseeing eyes.

"I went straight into the Chamber and performed the ritual. It had happened, and I couldn't let it go to waste. Merlin… if only I could take it all back…" He heaved a heavy sigh and let his face rest in his hands again for a moment before rubbing it roughly and readjusting himself on the bench.

"The second person I killed was easier, but mostly because he deserved it. It was my father - I'd finally tracked him down, and all I wanted… Merlin, I don't know what I wanted. But the way he reacted… It made my so angry. And that first horcrux had already done it's damage - I can see that now, though I didn't see it then. My temper was much shorter after that, and I was already much colder to other people. I didn't hesitate to manipulate people's feelings to get things I wanted. I had moments of genuine kindness before the horcrux, but afterwards there as no goodness left in me. Only false flattery to get what I wanted.

"Killing my father was easy, but my grandparents… they died just because they were there, and guilty by association. I remember spending some time, back then, mentally debating whether or not I should have just left them… if I should have let them live. They didn't deserve to die, and I didn't _need_ their death for any purpose. It weighed on me quite a bit. But then I made my second horcrux. A ring that I'd stolen from my uncle. I'd used a memory spell to make him believe he'd killed my father and grandparents, and he already had a history of violence against them and other muggles. It was basically an open and shut case for the aurors.

"After I created the second horcrux, I can't remember even the slightest inclination towards guilt in regards to my uncle's incarceration, or my grandparents death. There was no regret. No sadness, or guilt or remorse. I became so… cold. It only got worse from there."

He heaved a heavy breath and shook his head. "I need to get the horcruxes back. I need to restore the pieces of my soul."

"If loosing half your soul was enough to make you so cold and unfeeling before, how come you're not so bad right now? You only could have gotten back about half your soul from that horcrux, assuming it hadn't gotten any smaller from floating about for several years," Harry asked, honestly curious.

"The piece of soul in the diary grew considerably larger than the half-soul I'd placed inside it, thanks to the time it spent feeding off of Ginny Weasley," he said solemnly and Harry felt a jolt go through him at the reminder of Ginny's possession. "But I fear it may dissipate quickly, now that it's in me. I also suspect that it's the drastic contrast between what I had before and what I have now, that's caused such a dramatic change. My body and magic had grown accustomed to working off a faction of a percent of a soul. Now I've got what's probably the equivalent of two-thirds of a soul. It was a huge shock to my system. But I fear it won't be enough or last long enough."

"So what are you going to do? Are you going to go get the other horcruxes now?"

"I already retrieved one. I did the day before I even reincorporated this soul, actually. That little Sidhe pest had hinted and warned me that Dumbledore had tracked the general location of this one, so I retrieved it before he could. I had intended to find a new hiding location for it. Now, obviously, I'll be reabsorbing it instead."

Voldemort shifted so he faced Harry more and held his right hand up, top-side up, and indicated a ring he was wearing on his middle finger.

"This ring was my uncle's. After I killed my father, I stole this ring, and made it into my second horcrux."

"Second? So this thing should have a quarter of your whole soul in it?" Harry asked, interested.

Voldemort nodded and hummed an affirmation. He reached up and took the ring off offering it to Harry.

Harry frowned and looked at it cautiously, suddenly wary of some sort of trick.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"I'm curious what it feels like to you, seeing as how it's your soul as well."

Harry felt an uncomfortable heat in his chest at the reminder. He swallowed a lump that had manifested in his throat and hesitantly reached out to take the ring.

There was a strange sort of pulsing hum that he felt in the tips of his fingers as he held it. It was almost as if he felt a heartbeat from it, but it was his own heartbeat he felt - just magnified in his awareness, somehow.

"It feels… strange," Harry said, finally. "It's extra cold to the touch, but it's almost like my fingers feel hot."

"I feel the same," Voldemort agreed nodding. Harry handed it back and Voldemort slipped it back onto his finger.

"So when are you doing it?" Harry asked.

"Tonight, is my plan. It's… not something I'm looking forward to."

"Oh? Why?"

"It's not exactly… a painless experience. To be completely honest, I'm rather terrified of the whole ordeal."

Harry's eyebrows raised into his forehead. "Uh, what do you have to do?" he asked, wondering just how bad it had to be for _Voldemort_ to be scared of it.

"Total and utter remorse," he said with a weak chuckle. "There's a spell that makes you experience the dying moments of your victim. Their fear, their pain… but you also experience the emotional pain of their closest loved ones, from when they discovered the victim had died. It basically forces you to face not only the victim's fear and pain, but also gain an understanding of the ripples of pain your action caused in others. Death is the end for the victim, but the pain lingers on in the living. Experiencing this pain is a form of sacrifice, and the power from that sacrifice is necessary to break the bonds holding the soul in place within the horcrux vessel. Honest remorse is necessary to effectively bond the previously separated pieces of soul back together."

"Wow," Harry said, impressed. He had to admit, part of him felt it appropriate that Voldemort would have to endure something like that. Despite this, he couldn't help but feel a bit of pity for the man. Plus… it seemed like _Voldemort_ should be forced to experience that pain. This man… seemed… to not exactly _be that._ Or something…

Harry tried to wrap his mind around that thought, but it was so messed up he shook his head and gave it up for now.

"So what do you think will happen after you put that one back?" Harry asked instead.

Voldemort sighed and shrugged. "I suppose it'll just be more of what I've already started to experience. I believe it'll just solidify the changes I've already experienced."

Harry nodded lightly. "So after this, what's next?"

"The third horcrux I made was a locket that belonged to my mother. It's hidden in a cave, so I'll set out to collect it as soon as I feel up to it. I suspect there may be some recovery time after the ring, but it shouldn't take too long. Next was a cup that belonged to Helga Hufflepuff, and it is, unfortunately, in a difficult location."

"Oh?" Harry said cautiously.

"Much like how I had entrusted the diary to Lucius, I entrusted the cup to Bellatrix, however Bella still hasn't seen me since my physical appearance changed. None of them have, and I feel I should keep it that way."

This made Harry realize with a jolt, the grander repercussions of all this insanity. The casual mention of Bellatrix sent an even more painful jolt through him as it brought back memories of Sirius, and that bitch's duel. But he knew that now wasn't the time to be focusing on that, and it was painful enough that he was happy to push it to the back of his mind for another time.

"So… none of the Death Eaters have seen you since this started?" Harry asked.

"No. I basically vanished. I have no idea what they think has happened. A great many of them were apprehended at the Ministry, so I suppose in a way, that was arguably convenient. But obviously, there were plenty who weren't involved in the Ministry raid.

"Admittedly, I feel quite awful and a terrible sense of responsibility for the apprehension of several of of them at the Ministry. Aside from those that I broke out of Azkaban, the only reason the rest of them were even on that raid was because they knew if they refused me, I would kill them or their families. They hardly saw any point at all to the mission and felt, all around, that it was a bad idea. They'd never question me though. Lucius was terrified for his wife and son, especially, since I had primarily set up operations out of his home. He hoped that if he kept me happy enough, I wouldn't demand that Draco join my service as he got older.

"He didn't feel his son had a strong enough stomach for the violence of the Death Eaters and feared he'd crack under the pressure. Obviously he never expressed any of this out loud to me - he wouldn't _dare,_ but mental privacy wasn't a privilege I allowed any in my service. I tolerated his position because I knew how to use it to control him further." He sighed and shook his head making a disgusted sort of sound.

Harry had a hard time finding any pity for Lucius Malfoy, but he supposed the man had a small point, at least.

"So, uhm… are there any Death Eater operations or anything that the ones who are still free might do, even though you're gone?"

"No, I don't think so…" Voldemort said with a sigh. "I was so hyper focused on the prophecy that there weren't any other plans in motion. There are spies in place within the Ministry and the Daily Prophet, and the Wizengamot, who have a standing order to Imperius anyone of substantial power and influence, should the opportunity present itself."

"So… what are you going to do about them all?"

"I… have no idea. Summoning them to announce an order to cease any activity poses problems based on my altered appearance alone. I could glamour or transfigure myself, but at the moment I just don't feel I could deal with looking in the mirror and seeing that face again."

Harry hummed out a sound of understanding.

Voldemort sat up and leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him and stretching his arms and neck for a moment before sighing and returning to a more casual posture.

It was such a _normal_ sort of movement. Harry found himself staring at the man for a moment. Nothing about him reminded Harry of the creature he'd seen come out of that cauldron a year ago in the graveyard, or the man Dumbledore had dueled in the atrium. Absolutely nothing. It was honestly difficult to wrap his mind around the idea that he was the same person.

"Thank you for this, Harry," Voldemort said, drawing Harry's attention back to his face. "I really do appreciate you sitting here with me and listening to my ramblings. No doubt you had better things to do with your day."

"Hardly," Harry said rolling his eyes. "It's… okay. I think I'm glad you came here today. Telling me all that stuff about your childhood… it really put a new perspective on a lot of things. And I mean… well, honestly we share a soul I guess, so stuff about you is relevant to me, in some weird way. The idea that you weren't always a twisted monster is actually kind of reassuring."

Voldemort chuckled weakly, but his grin was more real and less bitter this time.

"I suppose I should let you get back to your own things. I… I should go prepare for the ritual, anyway."

Harry frowned, feeling a pang of sympathy for the man, which he then told himself was probably a ridiculous thing to do.

"Well, um… good luck, I suppose?" Harry said.

"Thank you, Harry. It may seem silly, but it means a lot to me… all of this." Voldemort stood up from the bench, and Harry did the same, standing awkwardly beside him.

"Uhm… will I be seeing you again?" Harry asked hesitantly, finding that he wasn't really sure which answer he preferred. He realized suddenly that he hoped he _did_ see him again.

"If you would be okay with that," Voldemort said with a hesitant nod and a questioning look.

"Yeah… I think I'd be okay with that."

Voldemort _smiled_ then, and Harry felt a strange jolt shoot through him. It was just such a strange _idea_. Voldemort _smiling. Not that he looked like Voldemort._ If he had still looked like snake-face, a smile would have probably been considerably more disturbing.

" _Merlin_ , I just gotta ask. What do I call you? Thinking of you as _Voldemort_ is just messing with my head."

The man flinched at the name and grimaced. "Yes, I'm not particularly fond of the name anymore, either," he muttered looking away.

"Really?" Harry asked, honestly surprised.

He sighed. "It's somewhat cringe-inducing, to be honest. I mean, there's the awful association of the things I _did_ while using that name, but there's also the reminder of how immature and stupid a thing it was to create and use the alias in the first place. I came up with that name when I was fourteen. _Fourteen_. It was one of those ' _oh aren't I clever? I can take the letters of my name and rearrange them to spell something dramatic in French'_ sort of deals." He said this last part in a mocking sort of tone that made Harry nearly laugh. "Plus there's the fact that I did it in the first place entirely because of my insecurities relating to my given name being too 'normal' and 'common', when so many of my housemates had these fascinating Roman names…" he chuckled and shook his head with a sigh. "It's pathetic, really. Like I said - cringe-inducing."

"So what _do_ I call you?"

"Tom, I suppose," he said with a simple shrug. "It's my name."

"You'd really be okay with that? I had the impression that you hated your name."

"Like I said, that dislike stemmed from a teenaged insecurity. This notion that I had to gain my peer's respect through a fancier name. It's an utterly immature insecurity, and I'd like to think it's one I've managed to outgrow. Even if my mind, in it's insanity, wasn't able to process all of that up until now."

Harry nodded, feeling real approval of the sentiment. "Okay. So… _Tom_ , then."

Tom nodded and gave Harry a small smile, that Harry couldn't help but return. This entire afternoon had been one of the weirdest and most unexpected things that Harry figured could have possibly happened to him. But overall, it seemed to have gone over well. Some small paranoid little voice in the back of Harry's mind couldn't help but question and doubt, wondering if it was at all possible that this was all just a ploy to try and gain Harry's support. He figured that doubt was probably healthy, honestly. Still… he realized he felt inclined to believe that Voldemort - no _Tom_ \- was telling the truth. He certainly preferred it being the truth over any alternatives.

"Have a good evening, Harry. And thank you again," Tom said with a small dip of his head.

"Yeah, sure. Good luck with tonight," Harry said back with a shrug.

Tom turned, gave Harry one last farewell gesture, and began to walk away. Harry watched him as he went down the path a ways before leaving it and disappearing around some tall shrubs, and a dense group of trees. A moment later Harry heard a quiet crack of apparition, and Harry knew he was gone.

"Well… that was bizarre," Harry muttered to himself before beginning to walk back towards Privet Drive. He figured he'd given his aunt enough time at this point anyway. He wanted to get back to his room and think. He had a lot to think about.

— —


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

That night Harry dreamt of Sirius falling through the veil again. He woke up in a cold sweat crying out Sirius' name and then laying in bed panting for several long minutes while his heart slowed back to a normal pace. He closed his eyes holding back the wave of tears that wanted to break free. He could still hear the echo of Bellatrix's maniacal cackling in his mind's eye and it sent a wave of anger to crowd out some of the despair.

Harry wondered suddenly if he could get Tom to set Bellatrix up to get caught by the Aurors. Better yet, Bellatrix _and_ Pettigrew!

But that thought just made Harry's heart sink again, knowing that catching Pettigrew _now_ wouldn't be nearly as meaningful as if the rat-bastard could have been caught when Sirius was still alive.

 _If only there was some way to bring Sirius back through the veil. Some way to rescue him!_

It just seemed too unreasonable a notion, that a person could pass through an archway and suddenly be _gone_. Instant death to anyone who happened to walk in the wrong spot? It just seemed like, if Sirius could walk in, then he should be able to walk out!

It just wasn't fair.

Harry drifted back to sleep sometime later only to have his dreams haunted by unfamiliar visions of a man who resembled Tom, very much, and an elderly couple, sitting in a fancy looking house. Angry yelling voices, a flash of green light, a heavy thud on the ground and the screaming cries of the old lady.

Despair, sadness, and pain. Miserable pain. An overwhelming, all-encompassing sense of mourning and regret. In Harry's dream it was all vague and detached, but there was the distant sense that this was all much stronger, far away, on the other end of the chain that tied them together.

When Harry woke up the next morning, he was left with only a vague weight of sadness in the back of his mind, an no certainty of where it came from.

— —

Six days later, Harry was sitting in his room on the second floor of the Dursley's house on Privet Drive looking through an old Quidditch magazine when he noticed a strange feeling in the back of his mind. It was some sort of an itch at first and he had probably ignored it for quite a while before it really caught his attention. It almost felt like a _need_ to… _something_. Like, he really needed someone to come out and speak to him… but that didn't make sense.

And like a sudden epiphany, he realized what it was.

He instantly set his magazine down and got up from his bed. Without any real hesitation, he found himself heading down the stairs and slipping his shoes on.

"Where are you going, boy?" he heard his aunt Petunia call out in annoyance, but he ignored her and ran out the door without bothering with a response.

He walked at a brisk pace, heading towards the park again. The calling in his mind seemed to be acting as a beacon, and he realized he knew which way to go. It was little surprise when 'where to go' turned out to be the same park bench from before.

Harry found himself jogging the last bit, slowing to a trot the last few feet as he took in the figure sitting on the bench waiting for him. Harry was caught off guard as he suddenly realized that Tom looked different than he had last time.

"Woah, you're younger!" Harry exclaimed in surprise.

Tom chuckled and shrugged. "Hello to you too, Harry."

"Well, yeah, that too. Hi. I just… you're younger!"

"Yes, it would seem that absorbing that second horcrux effected my physical appearance again," Tom said with a nod. He scooted closer to one end of the bench and Harry went and sat down next to him without any real hesitation this time. He took a moment to look Tom over, curiously. He would say that the other wizard could easily pass for 19 or 20 at the most. His hair was also longer again, and this time he had it pulled back into a loose ponytail, tied at the back of his neck.

"Your hair is longer, too," Harry said, then mentally cursed himself for his apparent ability to state only the obvious.

"Yes, it is. I've determined that the rate of cellular growth and decay is accelerated during the changes to accommodate the physical transformation. This causes my hair to grow very quickly at the time my body is changing. Finger nails and toe nails, too, for that matter, which was quite uncomfortable, and has taught me to either wear very loose fitting shoes, or no shoes at all, the next time I reabsorb a horcrux."

Harry laughed. "So… wow. Well, I already knew you did it, but I guess this means it was really successful, then? The reabsorbing thing, I mean."

"Yes. Quite successful. And while it was… certainly unpleasant, it wasn't unbearable, and… honestly, it was necessary and important. I needed to do it - to experience… _that_. Sorry, I'm not making much sense."

"No, I get it," Harry said with a nod. "So, it's been about a week, right? What have you been up to?"

"Oh, a number of different things. I have made contact, albeit not in person, with a few individual Death Eaters to make sure they wouldn't be doing anything undesirable in the near future. I still have to decide how to really tackle dismantling the organization without factions splitting off and trying to continue random acts of violence and devastation on their own. I will admit that I've made use of a few Death Eaters for personal gains, however."

"What's that mean?" Harry asked, frowning.

"I… I've been creating an alias for myself," Tom said, looking slightly sheepish, which was an entirely unexpected sort of look for him, when Harry thought about it. "I have several agents on the inside of a number of different departments within the Ministry and I've used them to plant false records backing up the existence of the identity I'm creating. Record of birth, OWL exam results, apparition license. That sort of thing."

Tom hesitated, looking mildly worried before looking directly at Harry. "I… I would like to start over. To be someone… else. Someone _better_. Someone whose existence does something of value, rather than wanton destruction. I suppose it's selfish. Morally speaking, I should 'turn myself in' and face punishment, but I'm afraid, even with all the changes, my desire for self-preservation outweighs my guilt. I would understand if this is not a choice that you can entirely agree with."

Harry's jaw floundered for a moment and he realized he really didn't know _what_ he felt was the most appropriate course of action. Honestly, he certainly never imagined that Voldemort would willingly turn himself over to the Aurors. He hadn't even considered the possibility that this new _Tom_ would do something like that either.

And what would they do if they did have him? A Dementor's Kiss was the most likely punishment, and strictly speaking, Harry wasn't sure how exactly something like that would effect _himself_. Would a Kiss even kill someone who had horcruxes? Then again, maybe a Kiss would be the only way to kill someone with horcruxes. Or maybe not. Harry realized that he just didn't understand the whole thing well enough to have any idea what would happen given different scenarios.

"I… don't know," Harry said, finally. "Honestly, it never even occurred to me that you'd turn yourself in. I mean, I thought it'd be wishful thinking to hope that you would seriously put an end to the Death Eaters thing. This is way further than I'd dare hope for."

Tom gave him a weak smile and lowered his head, looking at the ground between his feet. His elbows were rested on his knees and he was hunched over a bit. It was such a stark contrast to the ideas Harry ever had of Voldemort.

The dark wizard had stood so tall - unnaturally tall - and his movements had been fluid and inhuman. Almost serpentine. Smooth and measured and then sudden strikes that you never saw coming.

This man was just so… _normal_.

"I have to admit that there is still a temptation to make use of the Death Eaters, and I'm having to fight against those urges. Ideas keep cropping up… The violence has to stop, no question about that, and a great many of the Death Eaters joined up entirely because of their own violent tendencies and the opportunity to express those tendencies that being in my service provided them. Ideologies are sometimes the basis for joining up, and in those instances, my new goals would never align with their desires, and keeping them in line would prove near-impossible."

"Wait, what exactly would you use any Death Eaters for, if not for destroying stuff and killing people?"

"Espionage and political manipulation," Tom said dismissively. "I was always a very politically active individual with very strong opinions on things. But that didn't stop me from lying to take advantage of others. Latching onto ignorance in a mass of the population and using that to use them was something I was especially good at. Hate and fear of _the other_ is the easiest way to control large groups of people. Creating an 'us versus them' situation, and promoting through group fear, the idea that the _other_ group was wrong or inferior… well, you get the idea. Basically I found the easiest group of people to get to rally to violence were those who held a great amount of misunderstanding, distrust, and hatred towards muggles, and by extension, muggleborns, and then even to half-bloods.

"I honestly never bought into it myself when I was younger. I really didn't. I don't know at what point that changed… I can't seem to pinpoint when or how the shift took place… I just remember starting to believe it… I don't know. It's such an incoherent mess. The further into my life the memories go, the less I can understand them. The less connection I feel to them. I suppose with each additional horcrux I created, it just got worse and worse. The memories from these last few years are the most difficult to reason out. There's no rhyme or reason to my thoughts and actions. Even _I_ can't make sense of what might have been going on in my head.

"In any case, it was this notion of _hating_ a group, or collection of groups, that made it easiest to pull people in. In those cases, they are obviously not ideal people to continue to work with."

"So you don't hate muggles?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Don't get me wrong, Harry. I am not claiming to have magically become a _good person_. I would claim that I'm a significantly _better_ person than I was, and I honestly do want to continue making progress on that front. However, I still don't like muggles very much. I wouldn't say _hate_ , exactly. I'm not naive enough to think that wizards should rule over the muggles as a higher class of citizenry, as quite a few of my old followers feel. Well.. okay, I _did_ believe that, but I was out of my mind at the time…

"They seem to have this vision in their minds of a world where wizards are as gods to the puny muggles beneath our feet, serving and worshipping us. This image is apparently easier for them to entertain thanks to the fact that most of them have never bothered to even _speak_ with a muggle, or learn a single thing about muggle society, or population. You could probably pick a Death Eater at random, and have a decent chance of finding one who has no idea that the muggles have traveled to the moon. They are not smart people, Harry."

"You won't hear me argue that point," Harry said.

"I'm a realist when it comes to the muggle issue. Muggles and wizards are both _human_ , and humans have a fundamental flaw when it comes to drastically different cultures encountering each other. With that reality in mind, we are destined to fall into conflict. As someone who has specifically taken advantage of the natural human tendency to classify groups in an 'us vs them' conflict, I can speak from experience, that a peaceful co-existence with muggles where our culture and society isn't dissolved or wiped out all together, is incredibly unlikely, if not entirely impossible."

Harry frowned and his brow furrowed deeply. "But _why?_ Why are you so sure that humans and wizards couldn't get along?"

"All throughout history, time and time again, when you take one large and powerful culture and suddenly introduce a smaller, insular group to the equation, the smaller group _always_ gets dissolved or devoured. Sometimes it takes a very long time, and the smaller group's culture is lost gradually, sometimes it's fast and violent, and the smaller group is splintered and scattered apart, and their culture and way of life is lost that way. It's simply a reality of human nature. Sure, in an ideal world, we could all _just get along,_ but this is not an ideal world. It's the _real_ world, and in the real world, humans - magical or not - are flawed, fearful and violent. We are quick to judge, quick to categorize, quick to establish pre-conceived notions and then have trouble letting those go, even when counter evidence is placed right before us. Humans are stubborn. Humans in a group fall victim to group fallacies and the dismissal of common courtesies and moral boundaries. Just think of how many wars have been waged between people over religion. How much violence has been done simply because of the split between the Catholics and the Protestants? Many would argue that the two are hardly even that different, but I dare you say that with a Protestant or a Catholic in the room!

"Many of the purebloods have such a low opinion of muggles and such a high opinion of themselves and magic, that they monumentally underestimate the utter devastation the wizarding world would suffer, should we actually go head-to-head against the muggles. _I_ fell victim to the same thing. My attacks on public muggle venues were probably the most dangerous and potentially devastating acts of my entire horrible life. The very real risk of exposing us because of those actions… my god, it's terrifying to look back on it now. I cannot believe I was so stupid or reckless."

"Okay," Harry said slowly, "So you're convinced that if the muggles found out about the magical world, we'd end up going to war?"

"It's unlikely that it would start as open warfare," Tom said shaking his head. "There would be a hugely varied reaction among the muggles. Some would rejoice and be in awe of us and our power. Some actually _would_ want to worship us. Some would expect us to use our magic to start solving all of the worlds problems - or at least _their_ problems — and be decidedly displeased if we refused, or couldn't fix things the way they wanted. But a great many would distrust us and fear us; constantly paranoid of our memory manipulation and mental influence spells. And of course, a large group would be convinced that we were all heathen demons, ruled by Lucifer or something equally ignorant based on various religious dogma, and would call for our deaths or imprisonment.

"There would be massive public outcry and demand and the muggle government would eventually start to implement laws limiting our rights; demanding registration and tracking; taking away our wands; insisting upon oversight measures so they could know that we weren't using magic to lie to them or trick them. It would be a tremendous mess. And to keep some semblance of peace, or demonstrate our willingness to cooperate, the Magical Ministry would bend to their demands.

"Our Ministry is _weak_. They bend to the whims of muggle governments all the time, _even now_. You'd be astounded by the number of laws and restrictions passed on our practices and rituals, simply because some muggle in a high enough position to know of our existence complained and threatened to make a fuss, or because some muggle parents were confused or frightened by some practices their muggleborn child came home talking about.

"It would eventually be demanded that we integrate with _their_ culture. Our traditions would slowly be lost. Entire branches of magic would be outlawed, books would be destroyed… I'm absolutely convinced that, fast or slow, life as we know it would come to an end. And we would lose, because our Ministry would never have the balls to wage an open offensive against the muggles. This is where many of the magical elite class and purebloods are naive. They honestly can't see how we could possibly lose. _We have magic_ , after all."

"Uh… wow," Harry said, blinking at the other man. He didn't feel like he was entirely informed enough on the issues to argue against any of Tom's points… but a lot of it did seem legitimately possible. "So what would you do, then?"

"Absolute secrecy has to be maintained," Tom said with a determined nod of his head. "And we need to go a lot further than we are now. Magical muggle-born children need to be identified as early as possible. We have the ability to do so now, we just _aren't_. We need wizarding primary schools. Did you know that an outrageous number of children get to Hogwarts, _at age eleven,_ nearly illiterate? Little to no exposure to maths, foreign language, or other basic subjects. It's unforgivable, but it's a reality that has come about as a result of our lack of primary schools.

"Right now, wizarding children either go to a normal muggle primary school, have an expensive private tutor, or are home schooled. In some of the more magically populated villages, there is often a mother here or there that takes on many of the neighbor children as an additional income, providing other families the ability to send their child to someone for some level of learning. This and private tutors are the most common form of education for magical children because so many magical families refuse to send their children to muggle primary schools."

Harry's eyebrows raised into his forehead as he felt he had finally understood something about the wizarding world that had always confused it. It just seemed so strange that so many of the kids at Hogwarts were bizarrely ignorant of many regular school subjects, and especially ignorant of muggle culture.

"But wouldn't it be better if more magical children actually got exposure to muggles? One of the problems is that they're so isolated from muggles that they're just completely ignorant of how muggle culture actually works," Harry argued.

"Sure, you could argue that, but that's already the Ministry recommended action, and hardly any magical families go that route. We need magical-run primary schools, so the families don't feel so worried about sending their children to them. Honestly, the risk of accidental magic is a significant concern, and one of the primary reasons that magical children aren't often sent to muggle schools. It isn't even a matter of prejudices or not understanding - they're just afraid of their children being identified as _different_ , or afraid of an accidental magic incident causing trouble.

"Magical primary schools would serve the added benefit of exposing muggleborn to our world and culture earlier. Muggleborn would be identified when toddlers, and would be sent to a _magical_ primary school, making it much less of a culture shock. They could still live with their muggle family, while being part of the magical world during school hours. Remaining ignorant of your magical nature until age 11 is unacceptable and traumatizing. Both to the child and the parents and family. The number of children who end up in abusive situations as a result of a lack of understanding is also unacceptable. With early intervention and monitoring, we could guarantee that no magical child is being mistreated due to their nature."

Harry found himself nodding along. It did make a lot of sense, and he definitely wished he could have been to a magical primary school, or that someone, _anyone_ , would have been paying close enough attention to realize just how poorly the Dursley's had treated him.

"Alright, yeah, but how does that help prevent some future war with the muggles?" Harry asked dubiously.

Their discussion lasted nearly two more hours before finally beginning to wind down. Harry's head felt heavy with an excess of arguments, points, and counter-points, and while he didn't agree wholeheartedly with all of what Tom had said, he found that he'd agreed with quite a lot of it, or could at least see the logic in it, albeit there was a great deal of cynicism in Tom's view of society as a whole. But he'd had some really solid ideas too - ideas that Harry had never heard proposed before, but that he thought could have a real chance of making a difference. But they were all just _ideas_. Getting anything implemented through the current political system was apparently extraordinarily difficult, which was one of the reasons that Tom said using his Ministry-planted Death Eaters, was still very tempting.

During a quiet lull in the conversation, Harry's stomach made a rather loud and slightly embarrassing noise, drawing both of their attention.

"Er, heh. Sorry," Harry said with an awkward laugh.

Tom raised his wrist and checked a watch he had there, causing his brows to rise into his forehead a bit.

"Merlin, I honestly didn't intend to keep you so long," Tom said apologetically.

"It's okay," Harry said with a dismissive shrug. "It's been really interesting."

"Yes, but now you've undoubtedly missed your lunch."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Not like I would have gotten much anyway," he muttered.

Tom frowned and looked thoughtful for a moment. "I can remember getting a report once that seemed to suggest you had a less than ideal home life. Severus always made it seem as if you were a spoiled and pampered brat, which contrasted quite starkly with this other report. In any case, I didn't give it a lot of thought at the time."

Harry snorted derisively. "Of course _Snape_ would say that," he grumbled.

"Yes, he really does seem to hold an irrationally powerful hatred for you. So I would assume his description of your home life was the less accurate one?"

"You mean was I spoiled and pampered growing up? Hah, yeah.. _no._ No I wasn't."

"I recall the other report suggesting that your uncle was likely abusive, and your aunt possibly complicit in the abuse. Malnutrition was cited, and it was suggested that it was possible that food was often withheld. It wasn't terribly detailed, though."

Harry frowned. "How'd your other source learn _that?_ "

"Documents stolen from local child welfare office. It apparently even included a recommendation that you be removed from their care on charges of neglect and emotional abuse, however the record stopped there, and the recommendations were never carried out. Come to think of it, Dumbledore probably put a stop to it. I can imagine him making the local authorities forget all about the case, allowing it to fall into a bureaucratic filing abyss."

Harry felt that his jaw had fallen open, so he closed it and scowled at his hands, tightly clasped in his lap. "I think I hate that man more every day," he growled. "And to think I trusted him so much. I bloody well loved that man!"

"That's what he does. That's what makes his actions so insidious and traumatic to those he wrongs," Tom said darkly. "He makes people love and trust him. He manipulates people to do whatever he needs of them, while believing their actions were of their own choosing. And when he no longer needs them, or when what he needs most requires their sacrifice, he flippantly discards them for what he sees as the 'Greater Good'. I've often gone back and forth, trying to decide if the man is just incredibly diabolical, or if he honestly _believes_ that what he's doing is right. I honestly have to say he's probably managed to convince himself that he's still the 'good guy' in all this. That, despite how immoral or despicable some of his actions and betrayals have been, I think he honestly has convinced himself, that what he's done has been entirely justified. That it _had to be done_.

"Now, of course, I'm hardly one to be passing judgement on another person's transgressions. It would be the utmost hypocrisy for _me_ to be calling someone else's actions evil or reprehensible, and deserving of punishment. All I can truly do is address my personal grievances with the man. He has wronged me, personally, and therefore I, personally, want revenge. I want to make him pay for what he's done to _me,_ personally. And you, for that matter. All things considered, you are an extension of me, and the wrongs he's committed against you were almost entirely in an effort to also wrong me. Claims for or against a bigger picture, be damned. The man is an ass, and I want him dead. _That_ has not changed, improved soul and moral compass, or no."

Harry looked at Tom, wide eyed, finding that he really wasn't sure what to say in response. He had to admit that he did want Dumbledore to pay for what he'd done. The things he'd done to Harry, to his parents; or James and Lily, as it were; to Sirius; hell, even what he'd done to Tom when he was a kid at Hogwarts. But when it came to an actual punishment, Harry couldn't quite fathom anything specific. He supposed, more than anything, he wanted Dumbledore's actions to be exposed. He wanted the man publicly shamed. Death was less important to Harry. Honestly… the more he thought about it, the more he was sure he'd feel cheated if Dumbledore were to just _die_. People had to know the truth. _That_ was what Harry wanted.

But how to prove it?

"I think what I want, is for people to see him for what he really is," Harry admitted after several moments of silence between them. "To know what he's done, and who he's sacrificed and for what. I want _him_ to admit what he's done, publicly. No one would ever believe it, if I just told them everything. And I don't have any proof."

Tom made a humming sound and nodded his head thoughtfully. "Yes. I can agree with that."

The two sat in silence for several beats longer before Harry's stomach made itself heard again, making Harry duck his head in embarrassment, and Tom chuckle.

"Lets do something about that gut of yours," Tom said, standing up.

Harry stood up looking at the other wizard hesitantly. "Do something?" he asked.

"Let me treat you to a meal. Anywhere of your choosing."

Harry blinked at him. "You want me to go eat somewhere with you?"

Tom's expression faltered and he glanced away slightly with a small frown before looking back at Harry. "I - sorry. I can understand if the idea of sharing a meal with me is rather distasteful. I should have thought —"

"No!" Harry said, quickly. "I… that's not what I mean, it just caught me off guard. I mean, I don't think that _anyone_ has ever really offered to _take me out to eat_ somewhere. The Dursley's always went to great lengths to avoid taking me with them, whenever they ate out. It's not like I've _never_ eaten out somewhere before," he back peddled quickly, at the incredulous look on Tom's face, "it just… doesn't happen all that often."

"Well, then I insist you permit me to treat you to a meal. Anything, really. Muggle fastfood, pubfood, whatever. I'd probably prefer to avoid any wizarding establishments, just for the sake of avoiding you being recognized, but it's really up to you."

"Er… alright," Harry said hesitantly. "But how exactly would we be getting to a restaurant?"

"Apparition, of course."

"I can't apparate."

Tom rolled his eyes, "Of course not. I would apparate you. I'm very good as side-along apparition. I guarantee you won't even feel sick from it. I pride myself in my skill in the subject."

Harry thought back to the duel he'd witnessed in the atrium of the Ministry, between Voldemort and Dumbledore. The two of them had been apparating all over the place, during the battle. Voldemort especially. It had been amazing. Harry had never seen apparition used so intrinsically as part of a duel before. Not that he'd actually witnessed many real duels…

"I… guess. Okay. But, like I said, I haven't exactly gotten to eat out very often. I'm really not sure _where_ to go."

Tom rolled his eyes but grinned. "Fine, I'll pick. Come on, there's a good spot over there behind the bushes for disapparition."

Harry followed Tom, wondering as he went if he was being an idiot for trusting Tom like this. They slipped between a couple tall shrubs and between some trees into a nicely isolated spot where no one could see them and Tom outstretched one hand.

"Is this your first time doing a side-along?"

"Er, yeah," Harry admitted, hesitating for a moment before reaching out his hand and grasping Tom's. A strange buzzing seemed to course through him at the contact, right to his scar, where a strange warm feeling seemed to focus and hum. It was the first time that Harry had really registered that his scar hadn't hurt either time Tom had come visit him in the park. Harry pushed the thought to the back of his mind to think on later.

"Normally, it's a rather unpleasant experience. But this shouldn't be that bad, and it'll only last a moment," Tom said, grinning at Harry in a way that showed how pleased he was with his superiority in the technique.

"Ready?"

Harry nodded his head and saw that Tom was holding his wand in his other hand. He made a turning motion but it all happened so fast that Harry barely had the chance to register any details.

The whole world seemed to spin and twist and he felt a sense of compression and pressure, but it wasn't that bad. And then it was over. Harry heard a quiet crack echo around them and as soon as the world stopped spinning enough for his eyes to focus, he found that they were now standing in an alleyway between two brick buildings.

Harry followed Tom out of the alley and saw that they were now in a mildly busy commercial district with stores and restaurants lining the road.

Tom pointed across the street. "There's a nice little Italian place right there," then he pointed down the street in the other direction, "a Chinese place down there that I've never been to, but it seems popular enough. Two down further from it is a Mediterranean place that sells something called Shawarma, but also has these gloriously delicious beef kababs," then he stepped further onto the sidewalk towards the curb and pointed down the side of the street they were on, "and there's a McDonald's just down there, which I have also never been to."

Harry looked at Tom with what he knew had to be an incredulous expression. "Uh… please tell me that you didn't come here as _Voldemort."_

Tom let out a bark of laughter. "No. I most certainly did not. I would not have lowered myself to eating with muggles, let alone eating at a muggle restaurant. The cottage I've been living in is just on the outskirts of this village, so I've been coming here for the last two weeks for my meals. I'm capable of cooking, but I haven't bothered to equip myself with the various tools or ingredients necessary for making anything more complicated than a sandwich or simple breakfast. And I would rather not use either of my cauldrons for preparing something that I _eat_."

Harry laughed and shook his head with a grin. "Alright. Uhm, well, I guess we could try the Chinese place since you haven't been there yet. I've only ever had Chinese once before.

"Alright," Tom agreed with a nod and the pair began walking down the street.

—

Nearly an hour later and the pair found themselves laughing and walking back to the alleyway they'd appeared in at the start of the evening. Harry let out a sigh, taking a moment to contemplate just how ludicrous the situation he was in would seem from the outside.

He'd just spent a very enjoyable meal with the man, who only a couple weeks earlier, had wanted him dead. But the more time he spent with Tom, the harder it became to think of him as the same man. He almost found himself rationalizing it in comparison with himself. He, technically, had the same soul as Voldemort, just an isolated part of it. Voldemort had had a piece of the soul, but a very small and mutilated piece of it. And this Tom had a different, but still isolated piece of the soul… now combined with the tiny mutilated piece from Voldemort. He supposed that Tom was part of Voldemort in the same way that _he himself_ was part of Voldemort.

Only that wasn't entirely true, since this version still had all of the memories from the insane messed up version. Just… without the being evil and insane part.

"It was entirely comical watching the two of them interact," Tom was saying. "Orion was several years younger than Walburga, and they were direct _first-cousins_ , so they'd known each other their entire lives. But it wasn't until Walburga turned seventeen that their parents decided that the two of them should get married. I swear Orion looked so pale and ill the day he found out," Tom chuckled and shook his head. "The poor boy was like a dead man walking for a week. I'd always been rather fond of him - he was probably the only member of the Black family that didn't treat me like dirt. And Walburga was a nightmare, so I seriously pitied the poor boy when the marriage was decided."

"Wow… yeah, I can only imagine. Her portrait is still hanging in the Black family house, and she's a _nightmare_. She spelled the thing so it couldn't be removed from the wall, no matter what anyone has tried. Sirius resorted to putting a big curtain in front of it and trying to keep her covered as much as possible. But somehow the portrait is still able to throw the curtains open sometimes when she really starts wailing."

"Merlin, what a nightmare!" Tom laughed. "As if it wasn't bad enough when she was alive, she had to enchant her portrait to remain just as horrid and insane after her death."

"it's so weird to think that you went to school with Sirius' parents," Harry mused shaking his head lightly, trying to ignore the pang of regret that coursed through him at the mention of his late godfather.

"Your grandfather, as well," Tom said thoughtfully.

Harry felt his step falter and he nearly tripped over a crack in the sidewalk.

"My what?"

"Charlus Potter. He was a seventh year when I was a first, so I certainly didn't interact with him any, but I do vaguely remember him. I remember Dorea more clearly though, as she was actually a Slytherin."

"Dorea?"

"Your grandmother, Dorea Black."

"Wait, what? My grandma was a _Black?"_ Harry asked almost incredulously.

"You didn't know?" Tom replied, surprised.

"No! I mean… I didn't even know my grandfather's name."

"Your father and Sirius were cousins - not directly, second cousins once removed, or something like that."

Harry gaped at him, feeling utterly stunned.

"I was actually _related_ to Sirius?" he exclaimed in shock.

"I… yes," Tom said softly, giving Harry a sad sort of look.

Harry felt his chest grow hot and tight with indiscernible emotions. It still hurt to even think about Sirius. About how he'd died. About _why_ he'd died.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut against the stinging urge to cry and pulled in several slow breaths as he tried to regain control of his emotions.

"I wish I could take it back," Tom said quietly.

Harry shook his head roughly, holding his eyes shut and lips pressed tight. He couldn't risk saying anything yet, for fear of breaking down.

Harry pulled in another slow breath, then several shorter ones after that. "I don't want to talk about it," he said finally, turning and walking into the alley way that they'd apparated into earlier.

Harry came to a stop at the same spot they'd appeared before and took another calming breath. Tom stood behind him, silently waiting for several moments.

Harry let out a weak laugh. "I don't know why it should even matter," he said. "I mean, you could easily argue that James and Lily Potter weren't even really my parents."

"I don't believe that," Tom said gently. "I believe that what makes a person someone is the sum total of their life experiences. Their memories, their choices. It may be true that this body of yours started out with a different soul in it, but memories are also stored biologically. The soul living in the body to begin with was just an earlier piece to the puzzle, but the biology of the body, and the memories it had gained so far, were not changed just because that piece was removed and replaced with another.

"The souls of infants are so tremendously immature and undeveloped, it hardly means much, anyway. Why do you think it was possible for some tiny broken shard of my soul to fill the gap left behind in your body, and still function? The souls of babies are so tiny and undeveloped that a broken piece of my soul wasn't much different."

Tom sighed and looked around awkwardly, apparently not sure what to do next. Harry found he had trouble looking the other man in the eye right now anyway. He really wasn't sure what he felt, or how he _should_ feel.

Sirius was dead, and by all intents and purposes, the man standing beside him was almost directly responsible for that. Sure, Bellatrix had been the one to trip Sirius and send him falling back into the veil, but none of them, Harry and Sirius included, would have even been there if not for the false vision Voldemort had sent Harry.

But going a step even further than that, none of _that_ would have happened if it weren't for Dumbledore. There was plenty of blame to go around, and Harry considered a decent amount of that guilt to be on his own shoulders.

If only he hadn't fallen for the trap. If only he'd tried harder to confirm whether or not Sirius was still at Grimmauld Place. If only he'd remembered that damn two-way mirror… If only…

"The Sidhe paid me a visit a couple days ago," Tom said, seemingly out of nowhere. The seemingly random statement was unexpected enough that Harry turned to look at him in confusion.

"She had an interesting bit of information to share with me, although I had trouble seeing the value of it at the time…" Tom went on, trying to sound casual. "Apparently my uncle's ring is a fair sight more significant than just a 'family heirloom'. An ancestor of mine named Cadmus Peverell was a powerful necromancer. He and his two brothers created a set of extremely powerful artifacts that, theoretically, are supposed to do something noteworthy, should all three of them be reunited under one owner. But as for Cadmus' specific contribution, he created an artifact in the form of a small stone that was then set into a ring. The stone is, in fact, a piece of crystalized dementor heart, and has been enchanted in such a way that it can be used to recall the souls of the dead."

Harry felt his brows raising into his forehead as he slowly saw the point of this seemingly random tangent.

"It doesn't bring them back to life, mind you," Tom added quickly. "Just… brings them here. There have long been spells to summon the spirits of the dead, but they're never particularly effective or accurate. It's rare that you actually get who you're looking to speak to. The stone is different. It's guaranteed to bring you the soul of the specific person or persons, that you want."

"You could summon Sirius?" Harry whispered.

Tom seemed to swallow and glance away with mild discomfort before looking back and Harry and nodding. "Yes. I… well, when she told me what it could do, I thought for a moment that it was probably the last thing in the world I would ever want to touch again, but… if it would help bring you some form of closure, perhaps… Well, given how he died, I can imagine it would be difficult to really accept… or _understand_ … I'm rambling here, forgive me," he muttered and roughly ran a hand through the hair at the side of his face that had come loose from the tie at his neck.

He huffed out a frustrated breath and seemed to regather himself. "I am responsible for this. I'm responsible for a great many terrible things, but this is the most recent of them, so if there is anything I can do… I'll do it."

Harry felt the conflict storming away in his mind. He could see Sirius again! But what would he be like? What would it really _mean?_ Summoning someone who had died? Where exactly is he being summoned from? But wasn't that one of the things Harry most wanted to check? Some terrified part of Harry's mind had wondered if dying through that veil might mean that Sirius was trapped in some hell dimension, or limbo. What if Sirius needed saving?

"Can we?" Harry said in a small hopeful voice. "Can we, please?"

Tom's eyes looked worried and hesitant, but he nodded his head anyway. "Of course."

Tom cleared his throat and took a quick look back towards the alleyway's entrance to be sure no one was there. When he was satisfied that there weren't, he turned back to Harry. "I'm going to apparate you to my cottage, is that alright?"

Harry paused for a moment as a tiny voice in the back of his mind screamed about the need for caution, but he squashed it, quite quickly, and gave Tom a firm nod. "Okay."

Tom reached out and took Harry's hand. The next moment he turned on the spot and Harry felt himself being twisted along with. The world untwisted nearly as fast as it twisted and Harry stumbled for a moment before Tom caught him.

"Sorry, that was rougher than I'd intended," he apologized.

Harry steadied himself and shook his head. "It's okay. I'm fine."

Harry turned and found that they were standing in front of a very old and somewhat rundown looking cottage. It was small with stone walls and a pitched thatched roof. A rock wall came along the edge of the property, but as far as Harry could see, nothing but trees lay beyond. The garden was fully overgrown with grasses and wildflowers, and vines were climbing up along one side of the house, nearly engulfing it entirely.

"Where'd you get this place?" Harry asked, as Tom began to walk down the small path towards the front door and Harry followed.

"I had a handful of 'safe houses' that I'd arranged during the last war, but most of them were compromised, or deemed abandoned and sold or claimed for other land use. This one never was, though I only realized that fairly recently. It's still rather rundown, on the inside as well as out, but I've been fixing it up to make it more habitable."

"Oh," Harry said as they reached the front door and entered. Harry felt a tingling buzz in the air as he passed over the threshold, which vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "What was that?" he wondered aloud.

"The wards," Tom said, watching Harry curiously before he walked on through the small front room to a narrow hallway and through an open doorway there. Harry glanced around curiously, but quickly followed. Just as he had reached the doorway, however, Tom was stepping back out. He now had the ring in hand and was looking at it with an almost nauseous expression.

"Why does it bother you so much?" Harry asked, having picked up on Tom's apparent dislike for the heirloom.

"If you'd been responsible for as many deaths as I have, any devices that brings them back is a device worthy of wariness," Tom said darkly before handing the ring over to Harry.

"Oh…" Harry said before turning his focus on the ring. It didn't look like anything all that special. It was a simple ring with what looked like a glass-like pebble set in a way that it could be spun in place. On the stone a symbol seemed to be carved into the surface.

"Any idea what this means?" Harry asked, indicating the symbol.

"Not entirely sure," Tom answered. "But the symbol is supposed to represent three objects each crafted by one of three brothers, back in the 1200's some time. One was an unbeatable wand and the next was this stone, and the third was an invisibility cloak of unsurpassed quality and durability. From the sounds of it, it was made from a skinned lethifold, rather than woven from demiguise hair, as invisibility cloaks are usually made, today."

"An invisibility cloak?" Harry echoed with surprise.

"The line, here," Tom pointed at the ring, "is supposed to represent the wand. The circle is the ring, or it's stone, I suppose, and the triangle is supposed to represent the cloak."

"And something important is supposed to happen if all three come together?" Harry asked, cautiously.

"That's what the little brat sidhe said," Tom said with a sigh. "She said that Dumbledore had another, and I quote, "deliciously significant secret" surrounding these artifacts and if I did some more digging, I might come close enough that she'd be able to tell me more someday.

"Huh…" Harry hummed curiously. "Um… are you familiar with _my_ invisibility cloak?"

Tom blinked at him. "No, should I be?"

"It apparently belonged to my father, and I've gotten the impression that he got it from _his_ father, or something along those lines. It's supposed to be a family heirloom, I guess."

Tom's interest appeared quite piqued. "And it still works?" he asked, curiously.

Harry nodded. "Perfectly."

"Huh, indeed," Tom mused. "That may be something worthy of future investigation. But for now, I suppose we should remain on point. The sun is going to be setting soon, and I should be getting you back home before that happens. Do you want to do this now?"

Harry looked down at the ring before looking back up and nodding his head. "Yes, now."

"As I understand it, you simply hold the ring, think about the person you wish to summon, and turn the stone three times."

Harry nodded and looked down at the ring. He began to turn the stone when Tom stopped him.

"Ah - after I'm gone, if you don't mind?"

"Gone?"

"Just into the other room… I… I'm afraid I just… don't think I could be _here_ while you use that."

"Oh… alright."

"Thank you." Tom turned and left the main room, down the narrow hall and through an open doorway, before closing it behind him.

Harry turned his attention back to the ring and focused all of his thoughts on his godfather. He closed his eyes and focused as hard as he could while he turned the stone with his fingers. Harry held his breath for several beats, too afraid to open them.

"Harry?" said the familiar voice of Harry's godfather.

Harry gasped and his eyes flew open. Standing there, before him, was Sirius Black. Only he wasn't quite all there. He was translucent and blurry around the edges, but looked the same as he had the day he'd died.

"Sirius," Harry breathed out the word with an air of disbelief and utter relief. "Oh god, I can't believe it really worked!"

"What's going on, Harry?" Sirius asked, looking confused.

"You… died," Harry said, weakly.

Sirius blinked at him for a moment. "I know that… but how am I here?"

"Er, uhm… well, this," Harry said, holding up his hand and indicating the ring. "It's a magical artifact created by some powerful necromancer a long time ago. It can summon the soul of anyone you want who has died."

"A _necromancer?!"_ Sirius exclaimed. "What are _you_ doing with it?"

"Uhm… it belongs to a… a friend," Harry answered haltingly. "He's letting me use it, so I can talk to you. It's a family heirloom. His ancestor is the one who made it."

"Oh, Harry," Sirius said, with a soft voice. "I'm so sorry for leaving you, especially the way I did, but playing with an artifact like that seems awfully risky, just to talk to me."

"But I had to! I just… I had no know you were really okay. The way you just _vanished…_ I mean, who knows what that veil thing really is? For all I knew, you were trapped in limbo! You aren't, right?"

"I… no, Harry. I'm fine," Sirius said in a reassuring tone.

Harry heaved a heavy breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding.

"I'm good, Harry. I'm where I'm supposed to be," Sirius went on, and Harry felt his chest grow hot.

"No you're not. You're supposed to be _alive_. You're supposed to be _here_. But I screwed up, and now you're dead."

"This is _not_ your fault, Harry," Sirius said firmly. "I was the one who was reckless. I'm the one who let my lunatic of a cousin trip me up like some bloody fool."

"But you never would have even _been_ there, if I hadn't fallen for Voldemort's trap!"

"Harry, you can't blame yourself for that! If you were to ever find yourself in trouble, I'd be there to help. I promised myself that, and that's what I did."

"But you can't now," Harry said weakly. "Now you're dead."

Sirius' face fell and he looked away slightly. "And that's _my_ fault. Not yours," he said heavily. "Look, pup. I'm _so sorry_ that things ended up this way. I really wanted to be there for you. I've been a rotten godfather."

"No you haven't!" Harry insisted. "You did everything you could… you just didn't know…" Harry's voice trailed off hoarsely.

"Didn't know what?"

Harry looked down in silence for a moment before a humorless chuckled escaped his lips, followed by a tired sigh. "Some seriously awful stuff has been revealed to me, recently."

Sirius' brow furrowed deeply and he seemed to step closer to Harry, although he partially appeared to just float there.

"Harry… what's happened?"

"Have you ever heard of a Sidhe of the Old People with… some weird Welsh name. I can't even pronounce it, but what they do is tell people's secrets?"

Sirius' eyes got wide and his face slackened somewhat.

"A Dadguddiwr?"

Harry blinked at him. "Uh, yeah, that… sounds about right."

"What about them?" Sirius asked with a worried look on his face.

"One visited me," Harry said quietly. "She… told me some really… _really_ horrible things."

"Merlin…" Sirius whispered. "Whose secret?"

Harry's eyes hardened and his face became stoney. "Dumbledore's," Harry growled darkly.

Harry went on to describe as much as he could manage of what the fae had revealed to him. About Dumbledore's false prophecy, his betrayal of Harry's parent's trust, his use of Harry as bait, and the spell he'd put on Harry to try and break Voldemort's immortality protections.

And then he got to the part about his soul. Or rather, he and Voldemort's soul.

"Oh god," Sirius whispered. His translucent figure wavered as if he wanted to fall or sit down, but he couldn't. Sirius hung his head and held his hand to his face for several long moments, while Harry stared on with desperate apprehension. Sirius was the first person Harry had told the truth about his apparent soul-sharing, and he was terrified of the rejection which he was sure would come.

"So Voldemort can't die unless you die… Dumbledore knows this, am I right?" Sirius asked, finally looking up.

Harry nodded silently.

"It was a setup…" Sirius whispered in horror. "Snivellus' so-called _occlumency_ lessons," he growled angrily, "Weakening your defenses is more like it! They _wanted_ this to happen! They wanted another Arthur Weasley in the Ministry. Dumbledore wanted you to get lured to Voldemort! it was all a setup!"

Harry's jaw felt sore from the force with which he was clenching his teeth together. He nodded his head, jerkily, as he felt his own anger flare up again.

"That miserable, rotten, old, _bastard_!" Sirius snarled and threw his hand out violently, but it just passed harmlessly through the little end table he floated near.

"I cannot _believe_ that bastard," Sirius hissed angrily through gritted teeth, looking darkly at the wall to Harry's left. "He had us all fooled…" he whispered, though his tone was more devastated now than just furious.

He was silent for a moment before some light seemed to flicker in his eyes and he looked back at Harry. Worry filled his expression now. "Merlin… I've really messed it all up now, haven't I?"

"Huh? No! What?" Harry said, confused.

"Who the hell have you got now?" Sirius whispered almost desperately. "Who can you really even trust? For sure?"

Harry stared at him in silence for a moment, and his eyes flickered towards the hall that Tom had gone down a good half hour earlier. It was almost ludicrous from a certain viewpoint, that _Tom_ was the one person Harry felt he had a halfway decent chance of relying on, now. But trust? Harry wasn't entirely sure on that point. Not yet, at least.

Sirius heaved a heavy sigh and looked back at Harry. "You've got to tell Remus. It'll hurt, but he'll believe you. There's just not a lot he can do right now. Dumbledore is the one doing the most to protect him right now, with all the anti-werewolf legislation that's gone through the last couple years. And he's reliant on Snape for Wolfsbane. But he'll be on your side, and he'll keep an eye out for any signs of a setup from Dumbledore's side…" he trailed off looking worried and miserable. "Merlin… what a mess," he whispered finally.

"I do…" Harry started hesitantly, paused, swallowed a lump in his throat, and pressed on. "I do have someone else."

Sirius looked up surprised. "Who?"

"I don't think you'll like it too much," Harry said warily.

Sirius took on a guarded expression. "Who?" he repeated.

"The Sidhe didn't just tell _me_ this stuff. She did it when Dumbledore and Voldemort were in the Atrium dueling… just after you died. I was there too, and in the middle of the duel, Voldemort realized something screwy, and apparently it was enough to trigger the Sidhe's ability to reveal Dumbledore's secret… to… _us_."

"Merlin…" Sirius whispered.

"She sort of… _froze time_. Everything was stopped, except for her, Voldemort, and me. Everything that she told me, _he_ heard too."

"You're saying that _Voldemort_ is the one you think you can turn to!?" Sirius exclaimed, incredulously.

"He's not the same, anymore," Harry said quickly.

Sirius laughed and shook his head. "No doubt he's acting all buddy-buddy now that he knows you've got a piece of his soul in you, but that doesn't mean he's any less of a monster —"

"No, you don't get it. He's _literally different_. The Sidhe tricked him into performing a spell that restored a huge chunk of his soul and it totally changed him. It's kind of… incredibly-weird. I'm not even sure how to deal with it all just yet."

"Changed him, _how_ , exactly?"

Harry went on to try and explain about Tom's busted up soul, and it's recent recovery in as best a way as he could manage, given that he only partially understood it himself, but when all was said and done, he wasn't sure he'd done a stellar job of getting his message across. Sirius, for one, certainly looked less than convinced.

"You can't honestly _trust_ him, Harry. You know that right?"

"I… I don't know what to think about it all, Sirius. Honestly, it's all just so crazy, and it's all happened so suddenly… it's just _so much_ to try and handle, and I've had _no one_ to talk to."

Sirius heaved a frustrated sigh and began pacing back and forth through the small crowded room, passing through a dirty old sofa as he floated through the room.

"Merlin, I wish… damn it!" Sirius growled before turning to give Harry a defeated look. "I'm _so sorry_ Harry. If there was anything I could do, to be there with you, I would."

Harry gave him a sad smile and nodded. "I know, Sirius."

"Will your friend let you use this ring thing again?"

"Uhm… I think so," Harry said, glancing down at the ring that he'd been wearing on his right index finger for a while now. "He doesn't like it much, but I don't think he'd say no if I asked to use it again."

"Okay… well, if anything, _anything_ else comes up, just call me up. If nothing else, I can at least talk when you need it."

"Alright… I will," Harry said sadly. "Uhm, Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"Where you are… are you… okay?"

"I'm fine, Harry," Sirius said with a soft nodding motion. "I can't talk about it though."

"Oh. Okay." Harry looked down at the ring again and fingered it nervously. "I guess I should get going. It's dark out, and the Dursley's don't even know where I am."

"Where _are_ you?"

"That friend's house."

Sirius pinned him with a pointed look. "Just who is this _friend?"_

"Um… Voldemort?" Harry said, cringing in preparation for whatever would come next.

"Harry! Great Merlin, are you out of your bloody mind!?" Sirius exploded.

"Sirius! It's not —"

"How could you go to his _house!?_ How can you even know he's going to let you go!? He'd probably rather lock you up somewhere nice and safe where he knows Dumbledore can't try to use you against him. You realize that, right?"

"He's not going to —"

"You don't know that Harry! It's not like you could do anything to stop him, either! All this time, the Order has been trying to protect you _from You Know Who_ and you just walked off with him?"

"Sirius, Please!"

"I can't believe —"

"Black! Shut up," a voice cut in sharply, drawing both of their attention to the figure standing at the entry to the narrow hallway.

"Who are you?" Sirius snapped.

"Tom," Harry said, surprised to see him there, though he wasn't sure why. It was Tom's house after all, and Harry had taken an awfully long time. It also wasn't like he and Sirius were being quiet.

"Tom?" Sirius looked questioningly back at Harry.

"Harry, I'm sorry to cut you off, but it's getting very late. I hate to think of what the muggles will do, with you returning at this hour," Tom said, ignoring Sirius.

Harry grimaced. "Yeah… I don't think it'll be pretty."

"Should I come in with you?" Tom asked.

"I don't think you could," Harry said, looking doubtful. "I mean… well, I guess now Dumbledore was probably full of crap, but the wards around the house were supposed to be designed specifically to keep you out."

"Seeing as how you were able to enter my house without me needing to add you to the ward stone, I think it's safe to assume the wards around your relatives house would not, actually keep me out," Tom said somewhat cynically.

"Whut?" Harry responded in confusion.

"Wait - are _you—?"_ Sirius began, looking incredulously at Tom, who continued to ignore him and answer Harry instead.

"I have very powerful wards around this house, as I'm sure you would expect. The only way a new person can enter is if I add them to the wards, and normally the only way to do that is with a blood sample poured on the central ward stone, along with an incantation. Obviously, that didn't happen, as you crossed the threshold without any complication."

Harry's eyes widened. "What would have happened when I went to walk through the doorway if you'd been wrong?"

"It would have been like walking into a stretchy wall that would have bounced you back. It wouldn't have been painful, but it was a test I was curious about."

"What made you think I'd be able to enter at all?"

"When the Sidhe said that Dumbledore had devised a way to use _your_ blood to scry for my horcruxes. I rather doubt that you and I have identical blood, as biologically we are not related or connected at all. But our souls are the same. Our magical essence is identical, and that's what the wards check for, as it's not something that can be faked, while there are spells to falsify bloodtypes. The blood sample is just the conduit that the wards use initially to learn to identify your magical essence."

"Oh…" Harry said, distantly.

"You're You-Know-Who?" Sirius said incredulously, staring at Tom with astonishment and mild horror.

"My name was Tom Riddle, _before_. I prefer that now, to be honest. All that _he-who-must-not-be-named_ and _you-know-who_ nonsense pleased the insanity of my ego before, but now it just feels rather idiotic. And being called _Voldemort_ leaves a foul taste in my mouth. Not that I'm really in a position to be asking any favors of anyone…"

Tom turned his attention back on Harry. "We really _should_ get you home, Harry."

"You really think that you'd be able to get into the Dursley's house?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"There would be no way to make a ward that could let you in, but keep me out, while still allowing other people not on an 'okay list' in. Wards identify us by our magical signatures, and ours are the same. Unless you've been using wards that check for a specific spell that has been cast on a person, in which case you could have a ward that only allowed people with the specific spell cast upon them to enter - but that would make it impossible for your muggle family to invite _anyone_ into their home, so that's obviously not the case. The sort of open wards on your home simply checks for magical signatures and negative intentions Our identical magical signatures is one of the things that caught my attention in the Atrium when I tried to possess you. It was just so familiar that it set some alarm bells ringing."

"Possess him!?" Sirius exclaimed.

"That was before everything, Sirius," Harry said tiredly. He turned back to Tom. "Okay, lets get back. And… if you really think you'd be willing… I mean, I'm not even sure what you'd _say_ to them, honestly. I don't know…" Harry trailed off, tiredly.

"I'll speak to them," Tom said simply.

"What about Sirius?" Harry asked, looking at the wizard in question.

"You should let him rest. Holding his soul here for a prolonged time is supposedly unpleasant for them, or at least that's what the sidhe seems to suggest."

Harry looked worriedly at Sirius who just shrugged.

"It's not bad, pup. I'm fine."

Harry turned to Tom. "I can call him again later?" he asked.

"Anytime you want, Harry."

"How do I know that you're really going to take him back?" Sirius cut in, glaring at Tom.

"What? Are the stories about the dead being able to watch over us from the great beyond not true?" Tom drawled sarcastically.

Sirius glared silently at Tom in response.

Tom huffed out a frustrated breath. "I can't exactly apparate you with us, but I suppose I could leave the ring with Harry. It's not like I'm interested in summoning any spirits to chat with."

"Are you sure?" Harry asked hopefully.

Tom gave him a firm look. "Only if you promise not to misuse it. You can't go summoning a bunch of different people, and I'd ask that you not summon Sirius or anyone else, for that matter, more than once a day, and for no longer than a half an hour."

"Okay… is there a reason why?" Harry asked curiously.

"Harry, this is a _dark artifact_. It's probably the most powerful necromantic artifact ever created. It uses powers even _I_ don't fully understand. Nothing is ever _this perfect_ at summoning the dead. And dark magic is never completely free."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah, _he_ would know," he said dryly.

Tom gave him a dark look. "Yes. I would."

Harry looked down at the ring warily now. "What… what does it cost?"

"I don't think it's very significant," Tom said reassuringly, "that's one of the things that makes this artifact so impressive. it's really well balanced, especially considering what it does. Honestly, I think that most of the payment comes from the side of the spirit you summon, rather than the summoner, but it would require a lot more examination to be sure."

Now Harry looked worriedly at Sirius.

"Okay… I won't use it much," Harry said. "But I will summon you once I get home, just so you know I'm okay, alright?" Harry said to Sirius who looked back with concern but gave him a small nod.

"Turn the stone and take off the ring to let him go," Tom said then.

"Alright… I'll see you around, okay?" Harry said to Sirius.

Sirius sighed with worry, but nodded. "Okay, Harry. Just… be safe, alright?"

Harry smiled and nodded again. "I will."

Harry did as told and Sirius slowly vanished from sight. Harry let out a long slow breath before turning his gaze back on Tom.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Tom said softly and then he turned and began to walk towards the door. "Come along, Harry."

The pair left the house and Harry felt the buzz over his skin as he passed through the threshold again. He realized now that they really must be powerful wards, as it was the first time he really _felt_ any wards as he passed through them. He still had no idea where the wards around Privet Drive started or ended. Hell, for all he knew there weren't any wards at all, and that had all been rubbish. He doubted that, though. Death Eaters would have come after him by now, if there really were no wards at all.

Once outside, Tom held Harry's hand and the pair twisted out of existence, only to reappear an instant later, back at the park they'd left from hours earlier.

They walked in silence down the street towards Privet Drive and to the small path through the garden to the front door. Harry watched Tom hesitantly as he walked right up to the door without any problems at all.

Harry rolled his eyes skyward and let out an incredulous chuckle. "All this time… you could have just walked right in."

"Yes. It's fortunate I never bothered to try coming myself," Tom said quietly.

Harry pulled in a strengthening breath and pulled the front door open, stepping inside. The sound of the telly poured into the hall and Harry wondered if he could just sneak up the stairs unnoticed. Then the telly went silent.

"Where the devil have you been, _boy!?"_ Uncle Vernon's angry bellow sounded, followed by the heavy thudding and creaking springs that signaled he'd managed to extract himself from his favorite chair.

He appeared in the hallway, all red-faced and furious. His angry gaze was focused on Harry for all of a moment before it was pulled off it and to the figure standing behind him in the doorway. "Who the hell are you!?" he snapped.

"I'm a wizard with a wand," Tom said darkly, fingering his wand tip with his long fine fingers.

"You _dare_ threaten me in my home!? Vernon growled.

"I did not threaten, I simply stated a fact. And, unlike Harry, I am of age and can do with this what I will without worry of expulsion."

"What do you want?" Vernon hissed. Petunia had appeared in the hallway behind him a moment earlier, with Dudley Dursley's head peaking in from between her and the doorframe to the main room. Both looked decidedly pale.

"I don't want anything. I was simply escorting Harry back home. An unexpected incident came up and he had to leave on short notice. It's concluded now, and I've returned him home. I expect he's tired and would like to go to his room now, without interference from _you_ lot."

Vernon's face went all purple and splotchy with indignation, but he remained silent otherwise.

"He's missed dinner," Petunia said sharply. "I'm not fixing him anything else."

"I already ate," Harry said in a flat tone.

Petunia raised her pointed chin, tipping her nose imperiously into the air and frowning at him with pursed lips. Otherwise, she remained silent.

"Thank you for understanding," Tom said, with dry sarcasm. He turned his gaze on Harry. "I'll… see you again."

Harry nodded, suddenly feeling strangely awkward. "Oh, uhm… yeah. Thanks for food, by the way."

"Not a problem. Sleep well."

"Yeah. Thanks. Um, goodnight."

Tom nodded in return, turned his gaze back on the Dursley's for one last glare before turning to the still-open doorway and leaving. After the door had closed, Harry quickly turned and raced up the stairs before any of the Dursley's had the chance to recover from their shock.

After gaining some confidence in his isolation, Harry did eventually summon Sirius for a brief bit, but he didn't hold him there for more than a few minutes that time. He spent a great deal of time that night, laying in bed, staring at the ceiling, and trying to make sense of his completely twisted and confused thoughts.

So much had changed, so fast. He felt partially lost, but another part of him felt more grounded after today than he had since the battle at the Ministry.

And now he knew Sirius was okay.

Sure, he was dead… but he wasn't in hell or limbo or something even worse.

That was the first night since the Ministry that Harry didn't dream of Sirius falling through the veil.

— —


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Harry held out for four whole days before calling Sirius again. Each of those days, he had spent as much time as he could manage, sitting in the park down the road, and each day he'd found himself oddly disappointed that Tom never came.

Calling Sirius was primarily a result of loneliness, and also partially a result of boredom. His talk with Sirius was kept fairly brief, as Harry couldn't help but worry what the 'price' of using the ring might be. Sirius explained that payment for dark magic had an incredibly wide range, and sometimes seemed entirely insignificant to wizards, to the point where no one had any real hesitation in using the spell at all. Other dark spells had rather significant prices that didn't appear entirely obvious on the surface - like the Killing Curse. It apparently risked putting cracks in your soul that could only be healed with time and positive thoughts. That sort of explained a lot.

"Sometimes payment is just an emotion," Sirius had said at one point, making Harry look at him with honest bewilderment.

"How can an _emotion_ be payment?"

"Sadness can be payment, if the magic in question feeds off of that emotion. Emotional power can be quite strong when you think about it. Fury feeds a lot of dark spells, and the spell draws that fury out. It makes you mad with a powerful, irrational, anger. Lust is another. There's a reason so many dark wizards turn to violence, Harry. The magic twists them," Sirius shuddered.

"You seem to know a lot about it…"

Sirius snorted dryly. "Try growing up in _my family_ and not find yourself intimately familiar with dark magic. I hated the stuff though. I saw what it did to my father. _You've_ seen what it did to my mother."

"Tom said she was already pretty horrible, even when she was a student at Hogwarts."

Sirius arched a curious brow. "He did? And how exactly would he know that?"

"Apparently they were in school together. It's really weird to be reminded just how old he really is, sometimes. It's easy to forget."

Sirius scoffed. "Maybe it is _now_ that he's got himself a nice young face. _Before_ when he was ol' snake-face, you'd be hard pressed to tell he was even _human_."

Harry frowned in thought for a moment as a thought struck him. "Is a Patronus a dark spell?" he asked suddenly.

Sirius blinked at him blankly for a moment before shrugging kind of sheepishly. "Um… technically, yes?"

"Technically?"

"Well, _yes_. It falls in the same category of magic, but people generally don't call it 'dark' because it's based off of a positive emotion, and it's a protective spell."

"But it's still a spell that requires payment," Harry clarified. "It requires a powerful, positive, emotion. That feeds the spell."

Sirius gave a reluctantly conceding sort of nod. "Yes, it does. You're right, Harry."

"Huh… wow," Harry said thoughtfully. "Are there many other examples of that?"

"Well, I mean, there's a whole slew of dark spells that qualify as protective or healing that are still in use fairly regularly, but, like the patronus, they don't really get _called_ dark. They just, _technically_ work the same way, since they're spells that require a sacrifice or payment of some sort, instead of relying entirely on the wizards own internal magic. Of course, there are dark healing spells that _are_ called dark, because the sorts of sacrifice and payment _they_ require is considerably nastier than a happy memory."

"So it's really just a subjective label, tossed around. The technical definition of 'Dark Magic' and the sorts of spells people are thinking about when they use the word, aren't really the same thing," Harry said with interest.

Sirius shrugged, "Yeah, I guess you've got it right, there. It doesn't really mean much, though."

"Yeah, I suppose not."

"So have you seen _Tom_ again?" Sirius asked, sneering on Tom's name sarcastically.

Harry glared at him for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. "No. I haven't seen him since the night he dropped me back off here."

"What do you think he's up to?" Sirius asked, suspiciously.

"I have no idea," Harry shrugged. "But he did say that he needed to restore the rest of the horcruxes to his main soul, so I suppose he might be collecting the other horcruxes from their hiding places."

"Hm…" Sirius hummed, skeptically. "I have a hard time believing that You-Know-Who would really undo all the protections he put in place to keep himself immortal, considering just how much time and effort he had to have put into their creation in the first place."

"Well, he's not undoing _all_ of his safety nets. I mean, there's still going to be me, and Nagini —"

"That's the snake, right? Merlin, what kind of psycho puts part of his soul into a _snake?"_

Harry pinned him with another brief glare, making Sirius shut up.

"Plus he's done _other_ things to protect himself. The horcruxes were apparently all he could find, back when he was 16 years old, but as more time passed, he encountered other magics that protect mortality, provide partial invulnerability, fast healing… I don't know, all sorts of stuff, apparently. And he did a whole bunch of them to himself over the years."

"How many of those are still active?" Sirius asked.

Harry shrugged. "How should I know?"

"Hmm…" Sirius hummed as he 'paced' back and forth Harry's tiny bedroom. "Harry, just how sure are you that this isn't some elaborate trick?"

Harry sighed, shook his head and shrugged. "I… I can't _know_ something like that, Sirius. But, well, if it's all been faked, then Voldemort is a monumentally stellar actor. Going from what I've seen? I'm… inclined to believe him."

Sirius heaved a heavy sigh, looking deeply worried.

"Besides, that Sidhe fae girl told me that when his soul was restored it would change him; and she can't lie, right?"

Sirius gave a reluctantly conceding sort of nod.

An old digital wristwatch, whose band had been broken ages ago, but whose face-piece still worked fine, started beeping from the small cluttered desk in Harry's room. Harry moved over and pushed the side button, shutting off the alarm and sighed.

"Well, that's twenty minutes," Harry said sadly.

"I can stay longer, Harry. I don't mind," Sirius offered.

"No… we still don't know what the price _is_ for this ring," Harry said, shaking his head. "Using it too much without knowing is risky."

Sirius nodded, as he couldn't argue with that logic. "Alright pup. You take care. And _be careful_ , alright?"

Harry smiled sadly. "I will. Goodnight, Sirius."

"G'night Harry."

Harry twisted the ring on his finger, removing it and turning the stone. Sirius faded away.

Harry heaved a heavy sigh as his tiny room was once again filled with utter silence. The Dursley's were out. Some dinner party Uncle Vernon got invited to that, obviously, Harry was not welcome at.

His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since lunch, and it was already at least an half-hour past dinner, so he dragged himself from his room to go investigate his options in the kitchen.

Harry had just cleared the bottom of the stairs by the front door and turned the corner to head towards the kitchen, when the familiar crack of apparition echoed from directly behind him. Harry spun around and found himself staring in shock as Tom collapsed to the floor, looking deathly pale and visibly ill. His clothes were soaked but also showed signs of fire damage and he was gasping for air and sobbing.

"Tom!" Harry screamed in shock as he raced over and knelt beside him on the ground.

"I'm sorry. So sorry. Pleas.. please," he whimpered burying his face in his hands and pulling at his hair as it fell around his face.

"Tom, what's wrong? What happened?" Harry asked, panicked.

"Sorry… sorry… their faces… so many faces. I hurt them Harry…" Tom's face turned and he looked at Harry for the first time since he'd appeared, and Harry saw that they were unfocused and dilated, but they seemed to be slowly focusing in on him.

"Harry…" he said again, and his breathing was slowly beginning to even out.

"What happened?" Harry asked, desperately. "What can I do?"

"P-potion…" Tom stuttered out before squeezing his eyes shut and fisting at his hair for a moment as a pained whine escaped his lips.

"You need a potion?" Harry asked, wondering how the hell he was supposed to get any potions.

A weak laugh seemed to cough it's way from Tom's heaving chest, but it formed into another whimper. "No…" he rasped. "I… drank it. I had to. To get the l-locket."

"The locket? The horcrux?"

Tom nodded, weakly, and then his face scrunched up in misery and he buried his face in Harry's lap. "I burned them all," he said with a pained tone. "I wanted to release them… but they kept coming. I didn't have time… to do it proper."

"Who?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"The infiri," Tom said in an empty tone. "I stored them in that cave for whenever I wanted to use them in attacks," he went on, whispering, broken intermittently with a hiccough or a sob. "I'm such a monster… I should be dead."

"Tom, please," Harry pleaded, feeling the panic rise in his chest. "Please, get a hold of yourself!" Harry nudged over and pulled on Tom until he was more properly resting his head in Harry's lap, and Harry began to gently run his hand over Tom's head and back. He wasn't sure who the motion was suppose to comfort more, Tom or himself. But he had no idea what else to do.

"Is there anything I can do? Is there an antidote?"

Tom shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut against another wave of some unpleasant mental image or sensation. "No antidote," he rasped out. "I just have to ride it out. I… I thought it would be easier than this. It should have worn off by now."

Harry looked at him with even greater worry, at that. "Do you think something is wrong?" Harry asked, feeling the panic rise again.

Tom shook his head. "No… The potion makes you… see things. It's the Drought of Despair… I created it myself," Tom let out a weak, self-deprecating laugh before sighing heavily. "I suppose… I have a lot to despair over," Tom whispered.

Harry stared down at the man in his lap with concern written all across his face. "Is there anything I can do, at all?" Harry asked, almost desperately.

Tom's head seemed to wobble weakly for a moment before he nodded slowly. "Water. The potion induces thirst… it's so that you go to the water, but it's filled with infiri… I had to burn them…"

Harry gently maneuvered Tom's head out of his lap and jumped up, running to the kitchen to grab a cup and filled it quickly with water from the cold tap. He raced back down the hall to Tom and helped him sit up a bit, so he could drink.

Tom gulped down the entire cup in one go, desperate for more, so Harry took it and ran again to the kitchen to refill the cup. This repeated once more before Harry just filled three cups in one trip and managed to get back to the entryway holding all three. By the time Tom had finished them all, he seemed to legitimately be calming down. He was now propped up against the wall beside the front door with his legs loosely folded in front of him, and his head bowed.

Harry glanced at a clock on the wall, and worried silently about when the Dursley's would be back. Hopefully, not for a while, still.

"Are you feeling better?" Harry risked to ask in a gentle tone.

Tom nodded silently.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," Tom said in a quiet voice. "I… I had hoped I could power through it better than that."

"I still don't understand what happened," Harry said.

Tom seemed to swallow thickly and sat in silence for a moment longer, before replying. "There's a cave in a cliff on the sea. The cave has a lake inside it, cut off from the water outside. That lake is where… it's where I kept the _dead_ that I had enslaved as infiri, for use in the last war," he clamped his eyes shut with a pained expression. He breathed in slowly for several moments longer before he seemed to have collected himself. "In the center of that lake was a small island. On the island was a pedestal, and on the pedestal was a basin, filled with a potion. The Drought of Despair.

"The potion cannot be penetrated by hand, vanished, parted, scooped up, or siphoned away. Transfigurations, charms - nothing works. The only way to get rid of the potion, is to _drink it_."

"But why did you need to get rid of the potion?" Harry asked, in confusion.

"The bottom of the basin is where I put the locket, but it can't be removed so long as the potion is there."

Harry's eyes widened. "Wait, so drinking that potion is literally the _only way_ to get at your horcrux? You didn't put in a - a, back door? Or some secret that only _you_ could do?"

Tom laughed humorlessly. "My 'backdoor' was to simply bring someone expendable with me, and force _them_ to drink the potion for me."

"Oh…" Harry fidgeted nervously at the silence that filled the air for several moments after that. "But you got it?" Harry said, finally. "The locket, I mean?"

A peculiar look came over Tom's face then, and he reached into his robes. "Yes… but I think something is wrong… I was too effected by the potion earlier to examine it, but something seemed…" Tom's voice trailed off as he pulled a locket out from a pocket in his robes. His eyes were wide as they stared at the locket with a look of silent horror.

He swallowed thickly. "It's not my locket," he whispered.

"Not your locket?" asked Harry, bewildered.

"Touch it yourself, Harry. Can you feel our soul in this object?" Tom said, tossing it to Harry, who just barely caught it. He held it for a moment and agreed silently that he did not sense or feel _anything_ special about the locket.

Harry took it and pulled the two sides apart at the small metal hinge, and a small piece of paper, fell out and onto the floor.

Tom's eyes followed it with a look of horror.

Harry picked the paper up, and read it aloud.

"To the Dark Lord

I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more.

R.A.B."

Harry blinked at it in shock. "Someone already destroyed it?" he asked, looking at Tom.

Tom, however, was frowning and his forehead was deeply creased. He shook his head slowly. "If the locket had been destroyed already, the pieces that were in it, would have been called in by the spell I used to summon the pieces from from the diary."

"So… someone just stole it… and _didn't_ destroy it?"

Tom looked grim. "That would appear to be the case."

"Who is R.A.B.?" Harry asked, looking back down at the note.

Tom frowned in thought for a moment before his brows raised into his forehead with apparent dawning. "Regulus," he whispered.

"Sirius' brother?" Harry said in surprise.

"Regulus Arcturus Black. It was his house elf that I acquired to consume the potion for the initial test of the locket's protections."

"His house elf?" Harry echoed in confusion.

"The boat that lets you go across the lake without disturbing the infiri can only carry one wizard at a time, but it doesn't count house elves. In order to bring someone 'expendable' with me, it couldn't be a human wizard."

"So you sacrificed a house elf, instead," Harry said flatly.

Tom heaved a heavy sigh and nodded.

"But how would Regulus have found out about the locket from that?"

Tom's brow furrowed in thought again before a sort of dawning light appeared in them. "The elf left the cave. It must have somehow…" his voice trailed off and his lips parted. "House elves… can pop about in and out of a warded house," he whispered. "And in Hogwarts… my god I'm an idiot."

"What am I missing?" Harry asked.

Tom laughed weakly and shook his head. "I assumed that by leaving the elf on the island, with the infiri coming after it, that it was doomed to die. It's impossible to apparate anywhere in the cave, so you can't apparate directly to the island, or leave the cave from there. You have to go through the infiri.

Harry nodded.

"But a house elf can pop about freely, even in places with anti-apparition wards, so the elf was probably able to leave… it must have returned to Regulus and told him about the locket and it's protections."

"But wasn't Regulus a Death Eater?"

Tom nodded. "Yes, but he was also an intelligent and idealistic young man… I already suspected that he was rather disillusioned with my _'causes_ ', even before the time when I enlisted the service of his elf. When he vanished, I wasn't much surprised. I figured he'd defected… I sent others to find and kill him, but he was never found…"

"What do you think happened to him?"

Tom's face darkened. "He's probably at the bottom of that lake with the other remaining infiri. Or burned to ash." he said darkly. "And my locket with him," he heaved a frustrated sigh. "At least it is, if we're lucky. This just got considerably more complicated. The locket could be _anywhere_ , and I cannot reabsorb it until I have it in my possession. It was my third horcrux, so it holds a relatively significant portion of my soul. Of _our_ soul. I would greatly prefer to recover it."

Harry sat in thought for a moment. "What about that spell that the Sidhe said Dumbledore had developed to find the horcruxes?"

"Sure, it could theoretically work, if we had any idea what the ritual _was_ , or if we had six months to brew a potion," Tom said dryly.

Harry grimaced, "Ah… right. She did mention that." Harry frowned, biting his lower lip for a moment. "Didn't she say that the potion brewing made enough for several uses? If that's true, wouldn't there still be some potion left over?"

"Sure, but how exactly do you intend to get it?"

Harry's mouth floundered for a moment before he shrugged. "It sounds like the sort of thing he'd have Snape make for him. Maybe you could order Snape to give you some."

Tom scoffed, "Yes, brilliant, except that I don't trust Snape one bit, and rather suspect that his loyalties lie more in line with _Dumbledore_ , than _me_."

Harry twisted up his mouth, looking doubtful. "I kind of always assumed he was really _your_ man, and he was really spying on _us_."

"Yes, well, either way, we obviously have no idea where Severus' loyalties actually lie, and cannot risk him alerting Dumbledore to the fact that we know about his hunt for the horcruxes."

Harry sighed. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."

Tom shifted his weight and looked around the small entryway. "I'm assuming your muggle relatives are not here?"

Harry let out a small laugh. "You assume right. They would have been screaming bloody murder the moment you appeared, if they had been."

"Where are they?"

"Some dinner party. They, uhm… might be getting back soon. We should probably relocate, if you're feeling up to it."

Tom nodded and groaned a bit as he pushed himself upright. He wobbled a bit and caught himself on the wall, while Harry reached out to help steady him. He straightened and gave Harry a small grateful smile. "Thank you. For everything."

Harry shrugged awkwardly. "It was nothing."

"It was _hardly_ nothing. Thank you for sitting with me. I… I had no one else I could turn to."

Harry gave Tom a slightly sad look, but remained silent as he simply had no idea what else he could possibly say.

"I should go," Tom said finally.

Something in Harry protested, but he wasn't sure why. "Are you sure you've got enough of your strength back? You can wait here a bit longer if you need to. We just shouldn't be right in front of the door, is all."

"No, I can manage, Harry. I shouldn't intrude on you any longer. The last thing I want is to make your time with the muggles even more unpleasant."

Harry frowned, but didn't protest any further. "Hey… you apparated right into the house," Harry said, realizing that, all of a sudden.

"The house has no anti-apparition wards as far as I can tell," Tom said simply. If you can walk into the house, you can apparate into the house."

Harry looked skyward and shook his head with ridiculous frustration.. "So much rubbish about _special wards_. _Powerful_ wards. _Blood_ wards from a mother's _love_ and _sacrifice_ … They don't even stop apparition!"

Tom shrugged disinterested. "I should go."

Harry sighed quietly, trying to make sense of his disappointment. "When will I see you again?" he asked, before he could stop himself.

"I… well, when would you _want_ to see me again?" Tom replied, with some surprise.

"Uhh…" Harry's jaw hung open for a moment, while his mind screamed, _'tomorrow!'_ and his brain argued with his mouth over whether or not he should actually _want that_ let alone say it.

"I can stop by tomorrow if you'd like," Tom offered cautiously.

Harry's mouth snapped shut. "Yeah… that'd be great."

Tom gave him a small side-ways smile and nodded. "Thank you again… for taking care of me like this, out of nowhere."

Harry smiled and just shrugged in response.

Tom pulled his wand from somewhere within his robes and a moment later he was spinning away and disapparating with a quiet crack.

— —

That night Harry dreamed of Sirius again, but it wasn't a nightmare about Sirius' death, like so many of his dreams since the Ministry had been; no, in this dream, Sirius was _alive._ He and Harry were flying together above the Weasley's Quidditch Pitch, and then Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny joined them, and they all played a game. Then they were in Diagon Alley, shopping for school supplies, but Sirius wasn't hiding as Padfoot. He was out in the open with them, and everything was fine because he was a _free man_ now.

It was wonderful.

And then Harry woke up.

He lay in bed on his back, staring up at the ceiling as the sun slowly raised above the horizon, wishing, _wishing_ , that it could somehow be real. It was just _so unfair_ that Sirius was dead. He shouldn't have had to die!

With Tom the way he was now, he'd probably even _help_ Harry get Pettigrew so Harry could prove that Sirius was innocent! Tom could probably even use one or two of those Death Eater plants in the Ministry to get things moved along better.

Tom could…

Harry's mind froze as something trickled into the back of his consciousness… a question. A… _curiosity_. And he wondered… could he?

— —


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Harry heard the knock on the door and raced down the stairs, skipping two stairs at a time. Dudley still beat him there, as Dudley had been closer having just left the kitchen. Dudley pulled the door open and then stared with wide eyes and a pale faced, as he was greeted with Tom.

"MUM!" Dudley yelled over his shoulder while not actually taking his terrified gaze off of Tom.

Harry pushed around Dudley and made to slip out the open door as quickly as possible.

"Where are _you_ going?" Dudley asked.

"Out," Harry said simply as he reached out and pulled the door closed, just as his Aunt Petunia stuck her head out the kitchen door and looked down the hall with a disapproving scowl on her face.

Harry skipped down the path to the street, eager to get away from Number 4 as quickly as possible. Tom grinned at him, seemingly amused by Harry's behavior, but kept a casual pace as he followed.

The two fell in line and walked next to each other down the street. "I should inform you that we're being watched," Tom said quietly as they walked.

Harry's eyes widened and he looked around quickly.

"That oak tree in front of Number 2," Tom provided.

Harry looked right at it and squinted his eyes, trying to see someone, but he couldn't. "Are you sure? I don't see anyone. Who are they? Why am I being watched?" Harry asked hurriedly.

"It's someone from Dumbledore's Order. No doubt put here to keep an eye out for any possible attacks, so they could respond quicker if something were to happen."

"Oh…" Harry said, surprised and slightly weirded out by the idea.

"They're using a disillusionment spell, and remaining very still, so it's working well in the shadow of that tree."

"But you still spotted them?"

"Of course," Tom said dismissively.

"Um… is it okay for them to be seeing you?" Harry asked, worriedly.

"I'm not concerned unless it's Dumbledore himself, which it isn't. Besides, I've actually been thinking on that problem recently and I think I've come up with an interesting solution."

"Oh?"

"Yes, I'll tell you more about it in a bit. Was there anywhere specific you wanted to go today? Just a walk and talk in the park? Or…?"

"How about your place?" Harry asked quickly.

Tom arched his brows, looking slightly surprised, but then seemed to think it over. "I suppose. I'm okay with that, if you want. Is there any specific reason?"

"I just wanted to ask you some things… and you can tell me about whatever it was you just mentioned, too."

Tom nodded his head slowly for a moment before shrugging. "Alright. Yes, fine. Mind you, the house is not very large, and certainly not in a state I would consider appropriate for hosting guests."

Harry snorted. "Like I care about that."

"We can go to the park. It's the most secluded location to apparate from."

"Do you… do you think the Order guard will try to follow?" Harry whispered, bringing his head in closer.

"If they do, it'll be from some distance behind, and we'll be gone before he or she even realizes what we're about to do," Tom said simply. "It's not like they could follow after that."

The pair made it to the park without issue and Tom said that the Order member had chosen to remain in their spot by the tree, so there had been no concern there. They went behind the large bushes and Tom apparated them both to his cottage.

"The other day, you said that you'd been planting some documents in the Ministry for a new identity, right?" Harry asked as they walked down the short path to the front door.

"That's right."

"So… what is it? The new identity, I mean. I assume you've already got a name?"

"I do," Tom confirmed as he reached out and opened the front door for them. "I decided to go with Tomlyn for a first name."

"Thomlyn?"

"It's an Old English name, and not terribly common, but not so unusual that it would stick out to most wizards."

"And for a last name?

"Moore. Thomlyn Moore. Moore is the thirty-second most common surname in Britain, and there was a Thomlyn Moore actually born seventeen years ago in Leeds. He died two hours after birth, but he lived long enough to earn a birth certificate, and removing any traces of a death certificate is easier than planting a birth certificate. His mother, who was unwed, died in childbirth, and no father was listed on the birth record. It seemed reasonably fitting."

"Oh wow. Okay… Thomlyn Moore. Thomlyn Moore. I'll try to get used to that. Should I start calling you Thomlyn in public?"

Tom frowned for a moment but then shook his head. "Tom is a perfectly reasonable shortening of Thomlyn. It's one of the reason I picked it."

"Fine, but for people who _knew_ Tom Riddle, the way you _look_ combined with the name _Tom_ will really be a red flag, don't you think?"

"Ah, but you see, that's where my new plan comes in," Tom grinned and ushered Harry down the narrow hallway and through one of the doorways there. The room they entered was intended to be a kitchen, but it was plan to see that Tom had repurposed it as a potions lab and workroom. It was an old style kitchen, with a large brick oven, shelves lining the walls, and herbs tied in bundles and hung in a row along one stretch of wall. A large hearth was occupying most of one side of the room and a large cauldron was sitting in it. The wall and ceiling above the hearth was blackened with soot.

A large heavy wooden table was off-center in the room and was littered with books, pieces of parchment, two smaller cauldrons, scales, and an array of scattered potions ingredients. On a stretch of open floor where the table obviously used to rest partially covering, if the marks on the wooden floor was any indication, had been cleared of debris and had an elaborate ritual circle drawn in what Harry guessed was chalk.

"Is this room bigger than it should be?" Harry asked as he looked around, taking the space in.

"I enlarged it. The original kitchen was much too small," Tom replied distractedly as he walked over to the table and picked up a book that was laying open there. "I've been researching the Fidelius charm again and it gave me a rather interesting idea."

"The Fidelius?"

"Yes. You see, you can make _anything_ a secret using the charm. Not just a location, but _also ideas_. Information, concepts, anything really. When we were talking about the Black family the other night and you mentioned Walburga Black's Portrait, and again later when I realized it was Regulus who stole my locket, I was reminded of the Black Family home in London. I visited that home on numerous occasions. But I find that I cannot remember what the house looked like. I cannot remember the layouts of the rooms or what the address was. It's just… _gone_."

Tom arched a single questioning eyebrow at Harry, whose lips parted slightly, not sure how to respond.

"Seeing as how Black was successful in hiding from the Ministry for so long, and you obviously spent time in his home as you were familiar with it, it occurred to me that the home was probably offered up to Dumbledore to use for his Order Headquarters. Correct?"

"Er… yes," Harry said with a nod.

"And it was placed under a Fidelius, to keep it's location secret. I know this much from Severus, who could not provide me the information on it's location due to this restriction."

"Again, correct."

"What I find most curious about this is that a house, that I was very familiar with, is now completely blank from my memories. I cannot picture _any_ of it. Not just it's location, but the interior as well. I also tracked down a book that I know had featured a few pictures of the Black home from when Walburga got featured in some witch interior design article back in the early 70's, but all of the pictures of the Black home were _blank_."

"Okay…" Harry said slowly, still not really seeing where this was going.

"I intend to make the face of Tom Riddle, a _secret,"_ Tom said with a self-satisfied grin. "I'll probably throw in the memory of my wand while I'm at it, just so I don't have to worry about getting another one, or risk having people recognize it as _the Dark Lord's_ wand."

Harry's brow creased with thought. "But… what would making 'Tom Riddle's' face a secret do about your face now? I mean… you still look like _you_."

"But this is the face of Thomlyn Moore," Tom said with a sly grin. "I died and was reborn, and I created myself a new body. A body which has transformed even further now, and will likely transform more as I reabsorb more of the horcruxes. In any case, this is not the same body I had in my youth, and while I look a great deal like I did when I was younger, there are enough differences that it is not the _same_. I've been studying the semantics of the spell, and I truly believe that this will work."

"So you're going to make anyone who knew what Tom Riddle looked like, unable to remember it?" Harry asked, sounding slightly intrigued now.

"Exactly."

"Huh… that _is_ an interesting idea," Harry mused.

"I'm actually already prepared to perform the spell, and had been planning on doing it today. With you here, it actually provides me with an opportunity to test the results."

"How so?"

"You saw my younger self in a vision through the diary horcrux. If, after I've performed the spell, you are unable to remember what i looked like in that vision, but my current face remains visible and undistorted, I'll know it was a success."

"Oh, yeah. Sure, we can do that," Harry said with a nod. "Afterwards, there's a thing I want to ask you about, okay?"

"Sure," Tom said, looking at Harry with mild curiosity for a moment before turning his attention to the book in his hands and then walking over and gathering a few things from the table. He took them over to the ritual circle on the floor and laid a few objects out before standing over the top of it and drawing his wand out.

He held it aloft in the air and closed his eyes. Harry felt the air seem to shift in the room and grow heavy and tingly. Tom remained silent for several long beats but his robes began to shift and move as if there were a breeze starting to blow around him. His hair ruffled in the wind and the herbs on the walls waved back and forth lightly while the pages of several open books on the table began to flip about wildly.

"Ego sum pastor secretum, Fidelius Visio Incantatio!" Tom's voice boomed suddenly and a bright light shot from his wand, filling the room with a blinding light for a moment before fading away. Harry blinked several times, trying to clear the spots from his vision.

The wind had stopped and the heavy atmosphere had dissipated now. Tom released a small slow breath and stepped away from the circle.

"How do I look?" Tom asked and Harry blinked at him for a moment. Something seemed strange, but Harry couldn't quite place _what_. In any case, Tom still looked like Tom.

"You look fine," Harry said with a shrug. "Normal."

"Great. Now, first, do you recognize this wand?"

Harry frowned and looked at the wand in Tom's hand. "Uh… no." Harry blinked in surprise at his own words. "I don't recognize it. _At all_. I've never seen it before."

Tom made a rather self-satisfied smirk. "Fantastic. Now, think back to the diary. Close your eyes. Tell me about your first real encounter with the diary horcrux?"

Harry nodded and closed his eyes. "Uhm… well, I wrote in it, and it wrote back, answering some of my questions. When I asked if it could tell me about the Chamber of Secrets it said no, but that it could show me, instead."

"Tell me about the vision it gave you," Tom said.

"So one minute I'm sitting at my desk, and the next thing I know, I'm standing in a hallway in Hogwarts following…" Harry's voice trailed off and he scrunched up his face in thought. "a… boy? He? There was Hagrid, I remember. The boy entered his room and told Hagrid that he knew the truth about his creature and that he'd have to go to the Headmaster, but Hagrid insisted that it wasn't Aragog. The other boy… Merlin, I don't know!" Harry exclaimed, his eyes flying open and staring at Tom incredulously.

"It was you, right? I mean… I _know_ that. The diary was your, er… our soul. So… that was… you when you were younger…" Harry's voice was uncertain and he looked confused and frustrated. "But I can't remember what he looked like at all. It wasn't the same as this, was it? I mean… I don't think…"

"What was the boy's name?" Tom asked. "I didn't make that a secret, you should be able to remember it.

"T — Tom… R… Tom Riddle. Merlin, that's weird! Even that was hard to come up with!" Harry exclaimed.

"I suppose it's closely related enough that it gets clouded a bit by proxy…" Tom said thoughtfully.

"Tom, this is really weird," Harry said, sounding a bit disturbed.

"Ah, yes. Tom Riddle looked a great deal like my current face, right now. Black hair, neatly trimmed and short. He was a school prefect, tall, relatively slim - can you picture it yet? Also, this was his wand."

Harry's eyes seemed to glaze over for a moment before he blinked suddenly looking a bit dazed. "I remember! Wow, that was weird!"

"Now you are in on the secret, so you can remember my face, even when I was younger. Anyone who is not in on the secret, which is everyone else, will find they are incapable of bringing up a clear memory of me in my original youth. Also, any pictures that might exist of me from that time, although I doubt there are any left at this point anyway, but if there _are_ , they will now be blanked out."

"Won't Dumbledore notice that something is weird?"

"He might, eventually. But there's nothing he can do about it. And he won't be able to associate that suspicion with my appearance at all."

"Huh… Brilliant," Harry said, grinning.

"So what did you want to ask me about?" Tom asked, sitting down on one of the stools around the heavy wooden table.

Harry pulled out the only other stool and sat down facing Tom. "I was thinking… about Sirius," Harry started, cautiously.

Tom arched a single questioning brow but said nothing.

"It just… it's just _not fair_ that he died _now_. Not just for me, but _for him,_ and for Lupin… his death was just _so pointless_."

Tom nodded his head slowly, not refuting or contributing, as he watched Harry curiously.

"I just… well, remember back when I was in my first year, and you were on the back of Quirrell's head, and we were down in the dungeon tunnels by the Mirror of Erised and you asked me to join you?"

Tom's eyes widened. "I… do. Those memories sometimes feel… very _detached_ , but I certainly haven't forgotten them."

"You said you could bring my parents back if I joined you. Was that just rubbish to lure me in, or is that something you can actually do? Bring people back, I mean?"

Tom's lips parted and he stared at Harry in silence for a moment before he closed his mouth and let a slow breath out through his nose. "Harry —"

"Just answer, yes or no, if it's something you would be _capable_ of doing?"

Tom paused and looked thoughtful for a moment, as he seriously considered Harry's question. Then he looked Harry firmly in the eyes.

"Yes. Or… _maybe_."

Harry's eyes widened and his face brightened as he sat up straighter. "Seriously?"

"It would depend a great deal on whether or not we could get get some biological sample of Sirius. A blood sample would be ideal, but that seems rather unlikely. Hair or finger nail clippings could possibly be enough, but I can't guarantee it. I'll also need to go after Orion Black's corpse and steal a bone. And of course, all of this is also reliant on Sirius being _willing_."

"You can really bring people back from the dead," Harry whispered in stunned awe.

"Don't get me wrong, Harry. At the time that I told you I could bring your parents back when you were eleven, I _was_ lying. I could have probably recreated their bodies, but it's unlikely that I would have been able to summon their true souls. The primary reason that most of the dead risen by Necromancers come back 'wrong' is because summoning the correct soul is extremely difficult, and the soul has to be willing, as well. The only thing that's changed now is that we have the Resurrection Stone."

"Oh! Brilliant!" Harry exclaimed.

"Again, Harry - Sirius has to be _willing._ Don't get your hopes up until you've discussed this with him," Tom said firmly.

Harry nodded his head distractedly as his mind whirled through the possibilities. "Right. Do you mind if I ask him, now?"

Tom blinked at Harry for a surprised moment before glancing down and noting for the first time that Harry was wearing the ring on his right hand.

Tom sighed and nodded. "Yes, fine."

Harry looked down at the ring for a moment before closing his eyes and focusing his mind on Sirius. He turned the stone over three times and felt the air around him shift. He opened his eyes in time to see Sirius' ghostly figure fading into view.

"Sirius," Harry breathed with relief. Every time, some small part of him was always afraid that it wouldn't work.

"Hey, Harry," Sirius said before looking around the room in confusion and landing his gaze on Tom. "Oh. It's _you,"_ Sirius said in a flat displeased sort of tone.

"Sirius, I've got amazing news!" Harry said excitedly, drawing Sirius attention back to him.

"Oh?" Sirius asked.

"Tom says he can bring you back!"

Sirius stared blankly at Harry for a minute, "Bring me back?" he echoed somewhat incredulously.

"Well, I was thinking - it's just so ridiculously unfair that you died! I mean, with Tom finally better, we could easily get to Wormtail, right?" Harry said, pausing and looking questioningly at Tom.

"Wormtail? Oh… Yes, I could do that for you, I suppose," Tom said, haltingly.

"See! We could _clear your name!_ Fudge is already discredited because of all the rubbish he did over the last year to make me look like a loon for saying Voldemort was back, and it'd be easy to get someone to seriously re-examine your case, I'm sure of it! But you're dead, so what's the point, right? But other than the Order, and a couple Death Eaters, no one _knows_ that you're dead. And the way you died was so _bizarre_ and unusual. No body left behind or anything. You just _vanished_. It wouldn't be _that_ difficult to believe that you were somehow able to come back from that, right?"

"Harry…" Sirius said in a cautiously gentle tone, "you can't really _bring people back from the dead_. It doesn't work the way you want it too. People never come back _right_."

"Actually," Tom cut in hesitantly, "the reason that people come back wrong is because it's usually nearly impossible to summon the correct soul. You can rarely get a recently deceased soul that's willing to return; rather you get old souls that have degraded significantly or suffered damaged in some way. The difference here is that we have the Resurrection Stone, allowing us to pinpoint the precise soul we want - namely, _you._ I created a spell that will recreate a person's body, and if we can manage to come by a few specific ingredients, I'm confident that I could recreate _your_ body, even though no corpse was left behind. All that remains is your willingness."

Sirius gaped at Tom for several long moments before closing his mouth and scowling slightly. "You put this idea into his head?"

"It was _my_ idea," Harry interjected instantly. "I asked Tom if it was possible. He says it is."

"Probably," Tom put in.

"What's the ' _probably'?_ " Sirius asked suspiciously.

"Like I said, I would need to come by a few specific ingredients in order to create you a proper body, and given how you died, these ingredients could prove difficult to come by."

Sirius looked thoughtful for a long moment before he spoke again. "What ingredients?" he asked finally.

"Most ideally, we'd come by a blood sample. Without any chance of that, I could see about making it work using hair or nail clippings. So maybe a hairbrush you used, could be a fallback. But there's less chance of my getting it to work with that," Tom finished, looking more directly at Harry and speaking in a warning tone.

"I know. I get it. It might not work," Harry said. "But I still think we should _try_."

"Well, it really comes down to Sirius' willingness," Tom said, looking back at Sirius.

Sirius' brow was deeply furrowed and he looked from between Harry and Tom for several long beats. Finally he huffed out a heavy breath and nodded. "Okay. I'm willing to try."

"Yes!" Harry said, punching his fist in the air.

"For the blood sample… would old dried blood work?" Sirius asked, drawing Tom's curious attention.

"Yes, that would work great."

Sirius pursed his lips and seemed to make up his mind. "The week before I died, I got nipped on the arm by Buckbeak while feeding him. We were horsing around and I was reckless. It wasn't much but it bled enough that I wrapped it in bandages, and they soaked through. If Kreacher hasn't cleaned out the bin in my room, the bandages would still be there."

"That would be perfect," Tom mused.

Harry's eyes were alight with excited hope. "We've gotta go check!" he exclaimed.

"It's been _weeks_ , Harry. Do you honestly think the trash wouldn't have been tossed out?" Tom asked cautiously.

Sirius snorted, "Kreacher wouldn't willingly _clean_ the house, even if his life depended on it."

"Kreacher…? Your house elf?" Tom asked.

"Yeah, he's a bitter, nasty little monster who hates me and everyone in the order. Wouldn't lift a finger to clean the house all the years it sat empty. He let it all fall to pieces."

Tom hummed thoughtfully.

"Can we go now?" Harry asked, drawing Tom's attention back on him.

"To Order Headquarters?" Tom asked, somewhat skeptically. "Obviously, _I_ can't, but even your presence there might draw attention, wouldn't it? You're not exactly supposed to be traveling about."

"I'll sneak in," Harry said easily. "Most of the time, the place is practically empty, right?" Harry said, looking at Sirius.

"Most days it was just me," he confirmed with a bitter nod. "Remus was living there too, though. But Dumbledore had him out on missions a lot, trying to gain support from the werewolf packs, or at least get them to promise not to support _him_." Sirius said with a glare Tom's direction.

Harry ignored the jab. "See! With luck, there won't even be anyone there! Come on, please?"

Tom sighed and shrugged. "I suppose. If we're going to do this, there's no time like the present to get started."

"Yes! Thank you, thank you!" Harry exclaimed, jumping off of his stool.

Sirius still looked rather wary of the whole thing, but he smiled at Harry's enthusiasm.

Harry grinned at his godfather. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Alright, pup," Sirius said. "Good luck."

Harry twisted the stone on the ring and Sirius faded away.

Harry and Tom left the house and walked the short distance down the path to the edge of the anti-apparition wards.

"Apparating there will be slightly complicated, since I can no longer remember it's location," Tom pointed out.

"Um… well, I'm not the secret keeper, so I can't tell you the exact address, right?"

"Correct."

"Can I tell you the street it's on?"

"You can try," Tom said with a shrug.

"Grimmauld Place. Its in the London Burrough of Islington."

Tom nodded slowly. "I know the area. Yes, I can get us to the right area. We can walk the remainder if I don't get us terribly close."

"It's probably best if we're not super-close so they don't hear you apparate in, just in case someone is there," Harry said.

"I can apparate silently if needed. But it makes the ride a bit rougher for a side-along."

Tom took Harry's offered arm and a moment later the two were spinning through what felt like an overly compressing rubber tube and then came back out an instant later.

Harry stumbled a bit more this time and had to take a moment steady himself. After standing straight, Harry saw that they were, in fact, just down the street about half a block, from Number 12. "Brilliant. We're really close," Harry grinned, looking over at Tom.

The pair walked down the street until they got to Number 11.

"It's here. See how the houses go from Number 11 to Number 13?" Harry asked.

"Ahh…" Tom said with an understanding tone. He turned and looked at Harry. "Be careful."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's not like anything all that serious would happen if someone from the Order _did_ catch me in there. I could always claim I took the Knight Bus down here because I wanted to find something to remember Sirius by or something."

Tom shrugged. "I suppose. It's still probably best if no one sees you here."

Harry agreed and a moment later he was sneaking his way up the front steps to the door of Number 12. He could tell the moment that Tom lost sight of him, and a moment later, he was pulling the front door open, as silently as he could manage.

Harry cautiously avoided the large troll foot umbrella holder, and tiptoed towards the base of the stairs, being extra cautious of Mrs. Black's portrait.

He didn't hear or see any signs of anyone else being there, and hurried up the stairs while still being cautious to keep the noise level down. Harry climbed the stairs all the way to the floor with Sirius' room, pulled the door open and slipped inside. He turned on the light and quickly began to search for the bin. There was one on the floor under a nightstand directly next to Sirius' bed and Harry pulled it out.

"Yes!" Harry hissed excitedly as he saw the wadded remains of some bloody bandages near the bottom. He grabbed them and a small plastic shopping bag that was also stuffed in the trash can. He put the bandages in the bag and stuffed that into his pocket. A quick glance around the room and Harry saw a comb on a nearby table so he walked over and grabbed it as well, just for an extra backup. Harry left the room and was about to head for the stairs when he heard voices coming from below. Harry froze and pressed his back against the wall, just out of sight of the next floor's lower landing.

"—was with someone?" a voice that Harry recognized as Tonks said.

"That's what Mundungus said. Lazy bastard, just watched them walk off and has no idea where they went from there," Lupin's voice floated up the stairs with an obvious tinge of frustrated annoyance.

"Do we have any idea who he left with?" Tonks asked.

"Mundungus didn't recognize him. He said it was a young man, maybe 18 or 19 years old, with long dark hair and wearing muggle clothes. He said he walked right up to the door, rang the bell, and Harry ran out. The two of them —" his voice faded as the pair entered a room and closed the door behind them.

Harry let out a slow relieved breath and pushed himself off the wall. He was about to head down the stairs when something caught his eye. It was Regulus' bedroom. Harry stared at the door and began to feel the strangest buzzing in the back of his mind, and an _itch_ in his scar.

Harry walked over and pushed the door open, slipping inside. As soon as he'd closed the door behind him, the buzzing seemed to intensify. Harry felt his eyes being drawn to a table across from Regulus' bed. The room was decorated in such a way that you'd almost swear someone still lived there, if it weren't for the thick coating of dust covering everything. But Harry didn't spare the attention to take his surrounds in. He was too intensely zoned in on the table. Several items on the table caught his eye. They were familiar, but at first he couldn't quite place them. Then he saw the locket and it all flooded back.

One year prior, when Mrs. Weasley had them all working themselves to the bone, trying to clean Order Headquarters. She'd set them to cleaning out the drawing room, and they'd been going through a cabinet full of strange and questionable items. He realized now that several of those items were here on this table. And one of them, was the locket.

Harry reached out with shaking fingers and hesitantly picked it up. A shocked breath escaped from between his lips as he felt the powerful tingling buzz that shot through him and tickled his scar, as he held the locket in his hand.

"No way," Harry whispered in stunned disbelief.

An incredulous laugh escaped his lips, but he squashed it quickly, before anyone could hear him. He stuffed the locket into his pocket and slipped back out into the hallway.

Harry cautiously tip-toed down the stairs, careful to be extra quiet as he passed in front of Lupin's room where he could still hear muffled voices from within. As soon as he'd gotten another landing lower, he hurried his pace and ran out the front door. Harry jogged over to Tom whose face lit up the moment Harry became visible again.

"You are not going to believe this!" Harry exclaimed.

"Did you find the bandages?"

"Yes! But that's not all!" Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the locket, letting it dangle from it's chain.

Tom gasped. His hand reached out and he grabbed the locket, taking it as Harry easily released it.

"Where?! How!?" Tom exclaimed.

"In Regulus Black's bedroom," Harry said with an incredulous laugh. "Actually, I'd seen it before, but obviously didn't know what it was, back then."

Tom's gaze was fixated on the locket, but he glanced up at Harry curiously. "Oh?"

"Yeah, we were cleaning up the house last summer and Mrs. Weasley had us going through the Drawing room and tossing out the rubbish and some of the nasty dark items in there. I remember we passed that locket around, each trying to open it. After none of us could, we tossed it in the bin!"

Tom's eyes widened.

"But this locket and a several other things I remember us tossing in the bin were all laid out on a table in Regulus' room. My guess would be that Kreacher stole the stuff from the trash before it could be tossed out."

"Thank Merlin for that elf, then," Tom muttered looking slightly ill. "Well, in any case, it sounds like it went well. Lets get back to my safe-house."

Harry nodded, grinning eagerly. The pair walked a short distance until Tom felt they'd found a secluded enough spot, and he apparated them back. Once back in the workroom of Tom's cottage, Harry pulled the bag out of his pocket with the wadded up bandages and the comb and set them on the table. Tom examined them both thoughtfully and waved his wand over each before nodding his head. "These should work quite well. I'll have to get a few more ingredients, and of course, a trip to the Black Family crypt."

Harry grimaced but nodded.

"The main potion will take about a week to brew, but first I'll have to transmute the dead dried blood on these bandages into a fresher liquid."

"Is that possible?" Harry said with a rather disgusted look.

"Oh yes. It's simple enough. In any case, brewing the resurrection potion will keep me busy for a just under two weeks."

"Can I be here?" Harry asked before he could stop himself. "I swear I won't get in the way," he added quickly.

"I suppose. It won't be very interesting, and Severus always made it sound as if you despised brewing."

"I _despise_ Snape," Harry corrected. "And you can safely assume that anything he told you about me is either an outright lie, or severely distorted."

"I'll keep that in mind."

After that, Tom showed Harry the process of extracting the dried blood from the bandages in a large glass decanter and transmuting it into a decent-sized sample of what looked like real, fresh, liquid blood. This process alone took most of their afternoon, but the pair did take a break in the middle for lunch, after which, Harry insisted they take a detour to a local grocery market where Harry picked our a selection of ingredients for meals and snacks for the next couple days. He also picked out a pack of paper plates and some plastic utensils. Tom looked less than impressed with them, but didn't object, as he had nothing better back at his cottage to use instead. Tom mumbled something about transfiguring them into sterling silver. Tom insisted on paying, and the pair made their way back to the cottage to finish up the blood potion.

Shortly before dinner, Tom took Harry back to Privet Drive, promising to collect him again the next morning, and stating that he'd get the main resurrection potion started that night.

Harry could hardly sleep that night, for all the excitement he felt, bubbling away like a boiling cauldron, in his chest.

It was really happening.

They were going to bring Sirius back.

— —


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The next day, Tom surprised Harry by apparating directly into his room. Harry yelped in shock, and Hedwig make quite the racket as well, at the unexpected arrival. Harry feared for a moment that his aunt or uncle would come to investigate. Fortunately, neither did.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"There's two different Order members out there, today," Tom explained glancing out Harry's bedroom window. "It occurred to me that this might be simpler than walking to the park."

"Oh…"

"I also wanted to cast a few diagnostic spells around your room and the house to make sure there are no eavesdropping spells or anything else along those lines."

Harry's eyes widened and he quickly agreed to letting Tom check for spells. Much to Harry's relief, there were none and the two made to leave.

After disapparating directly from Harry's room to the road out front of Tom's safehouse, they made their way down the short path and went inside, directly to the workroom-kitchen. Tom quickly went over what he'd already gotten started as he showed Harry the two different cauldrons he had going simultaneously. One was smaller, and on the table over a burner flame, while the other was considerably larger, and was placed in the hearth over a controlled fire. The larger cauldron reminded Harry a great deal of the one he'd seen a little over a year prior in the graveyard, though he knew it couldn't be the exact same one.

"Now, I _do_ need to get a few ingredients for the next step," Tom explained at one point. "There's an apothecary in a small mostly-wizarding village in Yorkshire, near Grassington. They carry a few ingredients I need that you'd be hard pressed to find in virtually any other apothecary. I was hoping to pay it a visit today, and wondered if you'd be interested in joining me? There's a few other quaint little shops there we could browse through. Both potions going right now, are at a point where there's no real steps to be done for another seventeen hours at the least, and neither needs monitoring at this early of a stage. There's nothing much to be done here."

"Oh…" Harry said thoughtfully, not having expected that they may go out. "Do I need to disguise myself?"

"Not unless you want to," Tom said with a shrug. "Are you not allowed to be seen in public?" he asked with an arched brow. "Do these people really have the right to dictate where and when you can go places?"

"Technically… no," Harry said with a dawning look in his eyes. "They really don't."

"Exactly. You're muggle relatives are the ones who have that right, and they clearly don't give a damn. The last standing order I had passed around through the Death Eaters was to lay low, and not to engage with the Order, and especially not to engage with _you._ If by some slim chance we were to encounter a Death Eater, so long as they're not suicidal idiots, they should leave you be. And if by chance they _are_ suicidal or stupid enough to ignore my orders, I'll be there to protect you. Simple as that."

"I _can_ protect myself," Harry pointed out.

"True, but you're under-aged, and the last thing you need is another mark on your record. They seem to have overlooked your actions at the Ministry, but next time you might not be so fortunate. Leadership at the Ministry is in limbo right now as Fudge is being given the boot and there's a bit of a power struggle over who will fill the void until the next regular election cycle comes around."

"So Fudge really is getting kicked out?" Harry asked excitedly, eager for any news on the wizarding world.

"Technically, he's resigned, but it's not as if he _wanted_ to. The scandal was just too great for his career to recover."

"Who does it look like might take over?"

"It seems a draw between Rufus Scrimgeour, and Amelia Bones at the moment. Both of their camps are playing at various power plays, trying to gain the most support in the Wizengamot. Only the next couple weeks will tell for sure how it all plays out. Until then, there's a power vacuum, and all sorts of department heads are vying for increased influence or resources."

"I don't really know anything about Scrimgeour…" Harry began hesitantly, "but I've heard of Amelia Bones. She was at my disciplinary hearing last fall. She defended me against Fudge."

"Her brother Edgar was in the Order," Tom added offhanded. "She's a fair and just witch. If things were different, and I were still _Voldemort_ , I'd probably have taken steps to remove her from the equation by this point, just to make sure she didn't get the post. She'd pose the most difficulty for the Death Eaters, so in that regards, she's probably the better candidate. Scrimgeour isn't as bad as some 'career politician' but that sort of thing would still be on his mind."

"Oh…" Harry said, feeling slightly off balance by the flippant comment about _taking steps_ in _that_ way. It was still weird to be presented with little reminders like that, of just _who_ Tom used to be. "Her niece Susan was in the DA," Harry said, remembering the connection. She was raised by her aunt, I think."

"Yes. Edgar and his wife were killed in the war," Tom confirmed, looking intently as some speck on the desk while fingering it absently with one of his long slender fingers. "I killed them," he added in a soft voice a moment later.

"Oh…" Harry said, so quietly, it was barely audible.

Tom cleared his throat forcefully and blew out a heavy breath, shuffling a few books on the desk and running a restless hand through his hair.

"I really need a haircut," he mumbled absently. "Anyway… uhm… the apothecary?"

"Right," Harry said, grateful for the change in subject. "Yeah… sounds like a good idea."

"Right," Tom echoed, nervously and nodded. Harry couldn't help but notice that Tom was having a lot of trouble making eye contact, and he was fidgeting a lot.

"Well, then. Let's go," Tom said, turning and heading for the door. Harry followed and the two made their way outside and down the path far enough to pass the anti-apparition ward.

Tom took Harry's hand in his and once again disapparated the pair of them without effort. They reappeared on the edge of a village, behind a small group of trees, just beyond someone's garden. The walk into town was a short one, and much to Harry's relief, Tom struck up a distracting conversation about the village's history, and a few noteworthy wizards who had lived there in the past.

They passed a bookstore, a second-hand wands shop, a pub, and a store that seemed to specialize in different kinds of gems, and various divination items.

"And there are muggles in this town?" Harry asked, frowning curiously as they passed yet another blatantly magical store.

"This part of town is entirely wizarding," Tom said offhand. "There are spells all around it to deter the muggles from coming down this road and a few nearby off streets. Should one manage to wander down this way, they'll find themselves incredibly confused and drawn towards the statue in the center of a round-about at the end of that road," He pointed towards a street a short distance from them. "It'll get them back into the muggle part of town, and they won't really remember anything they saw down this way."

"Huh…" Harry said, wonderingly, shaking his head slightly at the thought that such things were really effective.

"Personally, I feel it would be safer to have greater barriers between our worlds," Tom said with a sigh. "It's effective for now, but there's no guarantee how much longer such things will continue to work. Anyway, this is our stop," Tom said as he waved one hand at a a stairwell sinking into the ground between two buildings, leading to a door to a lower level. Overtop of the stairwell was a very small sign that simply said "Dietzel's Apotheker."

Harry followed Tom down the small stairs and inside the dimly lit shop. It reminded Harry unpleasantly of Snape's classroom and office. The fact that it was underground, poorly lit, and musty, only added to the impression.

"Ah, guten tag," an old man said, as he emerged out from behind a beaded curtain hanging in a doorway behind the counter. He appeared rather short, but Harry realized that was probably because he was so hunched over. His back looked rather bent, and he was thin with wiry limbs, a mostly bald head, with messily crimped hair all along the sides and back that came down in a stringy mess over his back and shoulders. His ears were overly large, and his nose was quite bulbous. Despite all this, he had surprisingly warm eyes, and was giving them a very welcoming smile.

"Good afternoon, Herr Dietzel," Tom said politely. "I'm in need of ten ounces of crushed flitterbloom, a container of flabberghasted leeches, a bottle of hellebore syrup, two jars of polypody seeds, a vial of phoenix ashes, an adder spleen, a bag of knarl quills, a bottle of cowbane, and a bottle of boomslang venom."

"Right to it, young man," the old man said with an eager nod as he began to bustle about behind the counter, gathering things from shelves. "The flitterbloom and polypody seeds are along that wall, you can help yourself," he said as he worked, motioning towards one wall with one absent wave of his hand. Tom nodded and made his way over there.

"You really need all that?" Harry asked quietly as he stood behind Tom as he looked through various labeled bins filled with different herbs."

"Of course not," Tom responded softly under his breath. "But it's best not to make it _too_ obvious what sort of thing you're brewing when ordering obvious ingredients for questionable potions."

"But won't only the questionable items stick out?"

"Most of these ingredients can be used in _questionable_ potions - all _different_ questionable potions."

"Oh."

"You said knarl quills, right?" the old man asked. Harry glanced over and there was already a small pile of things on the counter.

"Yes, one bag," Tom called out.

The little bell over the door jingled, drawing Harry's gaze to the entrance. His eyes widened and he felt his blood chill as he found himself staring into the face of Severus Snape.

"Mr. Potter?" Snape drawled with an air of surprise.

"Snape!" Harry said, too shocked to say anything else.

"That's _Professor_ Snape," Snape snapped as he took several steps towards Harry, eyeing him suspiciously. "What, pray tell, are _you_ doing _here?_ "

A blur of motion filled Harry's vision, as Tom suddenly maneuvered to stand between Harry and Snape, defensively. Harry blinked at the back of Tom's head, startled.

Snape was brought up short, and looked down at Tom with apparent surprise.

"And who might _you_ be?"

"A friend," Tom said in a low, icy voice, glaring across at Snape.

"I was fairly sure I was already familiar with most of Mr. Potter's _friends_ ," Snape said dryly, glaring right back, "but I'm afraid I'm not familiar with _you_."

"You honestly think you know him so well?" Tom drawled, curling his lip derisively.

Snape's eyes narrowed.

"I know him better than _most,"_ Snape sneered shortly.

The two seemed to stare at each other for an uncomfortably long beat, during which Harry felt he had no idea what to do next.

"Young man? I've got your order ready," the apothecary behind the counter called out.

Tom remained glaring at Snape a moment longer before turning and walking over to the counter, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him along with as he went.

"Thank you sir," Tom said as he seemed to quickly survey the ingredients on the counter and set down those he had collected himself.

The old many tallied it all up, "That'll be eight galleons and five sickles," he said genially.

Tom fished a bag out from a pocket that was clearly not large enough to hold it, but Harry chalked it up to 'magic' and didn't give it much more thought. Tom fished a few heavy coins out of the bag and tossed them on the counter before sweeping all the ingredients up and sliding them into the bag.

Snape watched the two of them with piercing eyes, but said nothing else.

"Thank you, sir," Tom said to the apothecary and turned towards the door, once again pulling Harry along behind him.

"Good afternoon, Potter," Snape drawled sarcastically.

"Bye," Harry said in a short, cold tone before he and Tom fully vanished from the room, letting the door close loudly behind them.

"Bollocks," Harry cursed under his breath as they quickly climbed the stairs and returned to the main street.

"That was an unfortunate run-in," Tom agreed lowly. "Hardly a big deal, though."

"Hardly a big deal? He'll definitely tell Dumbledore we were out here! He's in the Order - they'll know I was out of the house today."

Tom stopped and turned to face Harry. "So?" he asked defiantly, arching a single questioning brow.

Harry came up short, staring with his lips parted for a moment. "Uhm…"

"You're not a prisoner, and they have no right to treat you as one. Why shouldn't you be able to go to a wizarding village during your summer break?"

"Uh, because they're trying to protect me from Death Eaters?" Harry offered, questioningly.

"And that's their prerogative. That doesn't mean that you have to make their job any easier, or act like a recluse."

"Yeah, but Snape also saw _you_."

"And so what if he did?"

"Well, obviously, the Order is going to be wondering who you are now."

"I'm fairly sure that they were already wondering that, seeing as how they've seen me approach your house and leave with you, at least once," Tom pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so. Tonks and Lupin _were_ talking about us… So do we have a plan for that?"

"For who I am?"

"Yeah?"

Tom turned and began walking down the street again, and Harry followed beside him.

"My name is Thomlyn Moore, my mother's name is recorded as Sarah Moore, and was unwed, and 17 years old at the time of 'my' birth, and her death. She was homeless and there are virtually no records about her at all. She gave birth at a the Barnet Hospital in Hertfordshire, where she lived just long enough to tell the staff that she wanted me named Thomlyn, and then promptly died from eclampsia. I was born a month early and underweight, and while the _real_ Thomlyn died within the hour, I've adjusted the muggle records to show that I was kept in NICU for a month before ending up in foster care. At age two I ended up in the Netherheys House - basically an _orphanage_ \- in Surrey, where I stayed until age 8 when the children's home was closed down. I was then transferred back into foster care and shuffled through four different families, all of which were abusive to some degree, over the next two years, after which point, I ran away. Thus, when I was eleven, and could have possibly received a Hogwarts letter, I was homeless on the streets of London."

Harry frowned. "Wouldn't it have found you anyway? The letter, I mean? When my uncle Vernon tried to prevent me from getting my letter, I just got more and more of them, until finally Hagrid was sent to deliver it in person. The letters were addressed with incredibly specific addresses. The cupboard, the smallest bedroom, room whatever of some hotel…"

Tom gave Harry a sad sort of smile. "Your admissions letter was especially persistent entirely because of who you are. I can guarantee that they're not nearly that persistent with normal children, especially nobodies with no family history at the school already. Your name was down for the school before you were even born, entirely because of your Potter lineage."

"But don't they try harder for muggleborn kids? I mean, doesn't a professor deliver the letter so they can explain to the parents?"

"That's not necessarily always true. These days the spells are more specific and and can often identify if someone is muggleborn or not. If someone has a magical parent, the school is less persistent than if someone is identified as fully muggleborn. My father is not listed on my birth certificate, and could easily have been a wizard. One magical parent would have been enough that my name wouldn't have been listed with the muggleborn children, and I would not have warranted any special visit. One letter sent out - no response, no second attempt. Simple as that."

"Okay…" Harry said slowly, taking this information in. "So how did you learn about magic?"

"If a magical child doesn't attend Hogwarts, a letter is sent to them shortly after September by the Ministry, including a packet with information on the wizarding world and the statue of secrecy, and detailing the consequences of performing magic in front of muggles. Upon receipt of that, I would have gone to Diagon Alley, and started to figure my way through things from there. I'm an accomplished pick-pocket, as any child living on the streets of London must be - even more so since I'd been making use of my naturally discovered magical talent to distract the muggles, since a young age."

"So basically, your story is that you stole money and managed to teach yourself magic?"

"Basically, yes," Tom said with an unapologetic tone. "There's more than enough truth in there to easily pull it off convincingly. And being homeless explains the lack of an extensive paper trail."

"So how did _we_ meet?" Harry asked, arching a single brow.

"That… I hadn't worked out yet," Tom said, shrugging. "Admittedly, that's probably the hardest part to come up with, since it's rather out of character for you to keep secrets from your friends, but would also be very out of character for you and I to have met since the school year ended, and yet for you to trust me enough to let me take you away from your home."

"Hmm…" Harry hummed thoughtfully as they continued to walk down the street.

"I was thinking we could go in here," Tom said, pausing in front of what Harry then saw appeared to be a clothing shop.

"Clothes?"

"Most of the clothes that I've picked up in my village are muggle, since I've stuck primarily to the muggle world as of late, but I was hoping to come by some more casual wizarding wear as well," Tom said. "The clothes I had in the safe-house are entirely inappropriate now, plus they're grossly oversized."

Harry thought back to how unnaturally tall Voldemort had been, and how he'd never seen the man in anything but long flowing black robes, and figured Tom probably had good reason for wanting to improve his wardrobe.

"Yeah, sure," Harry said with an easy shrug and they went inside.

The two wandered through the small clothing shop, Harry aimlessly glancing at things while trying to mull over in his mind what sort of excuse for meeting Tom would be believable, while Tom went through the racks, picking things out and laying them over one arm.

After a bit Tom came over to Harry and started handing over a small pile of shirts and trousers, to which Harry stared at him blankly.

"Uh…"

"Try these on," Tom said, motioning towards the archway in the back of the store with a sign 'Dressing Rooms' over it.

"Me?"

"Yes, you," Tom said with a smirk. "I'm trying these," he said, motioning to the remaining pile of clothes on his other arm. "I'm fairly sure those are you size, but I could easily be wrong, so you should try them on to be safe."

"Wait, why are you getting me clothes?"

"Because you need them," Tom said, rolling his eyes as if this were the most obvious statement in the world.

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but then closed it again and looked down at himself self-consciously.

His jeans were wearing through in several places and torn to rags at the heels since they were too long and he often ended up walking on them. His t-shirt was oversized, and had some muggle band on it that Harry wasn't actually familiar with at all, as it had once belonged to Dudley.

"I've got wizarding clothes, it's my muggle wardrobe that's shit," Harry explained defensively.

"And these would easily pass in both worlds," Tom responded easily. "Simple shirts and trousers. The cut and styling might might not be entirely typical for muggle attire, but at least they'll fit, and they're new."

Harry frowned, feeling self-conscious again, but he huffed out a breath and sourly walked to the back and into one of the dressing rooms.

He rushed through the fitting as much as possible. He did have to admit that Tom at least had good taste, and a good eye for size, as they all fit rather nicely. Several minutes later, Harry exited the dressing rooms with the clothes neatly folded over his arm.

Tom was out there already, standing up at the cashier with his pile of clothes already sitting on the counter.

"How was the fit?"

"Fine," Harry said. "Hey look, I didn't bring my money with me. I wasn't expecting —"

"I'm covering it, Harry. This was my idea," Tom interrupted.

"I can pay you back," Harry argued, but Tom waved him off. "You already covered all the ingredients at the apothecary," Harry pressed. "And you're brewing that potion for _me_. Honestly, _I_ should be the one paying for things."

"Harry, I mean it. It's on me," Tom said more firmly this time.

Harry rolled his eyes at the other's stubbornness. "I'm going to pay you back."

"Harry," Tom said in another warning tone, but Harry found himself just grinning back at him and then dropping his pile of clothes on the counter next to Tom's.

The pair left the store shortly after that and made their way back down the street. They stopped off in a small book store and newsstand where Tom picked up a couple different papers, a muggle one, and the Daily Prophet, and Harry picked out a quidditch magazine and then spotted another magazine that caught his attention due to an ad on the back for _Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes Grand Opening_. Tom added them to his pile and Harry added their price to his mental tally of what he owed Tom.

Finally, they headed back in the direction that they originally came from, returning to the same group of trees besides someone's garden, and apparating back to Tom's cottage.

Harry still had no idea what excuse he could use for how he came to know Tom, and hoped that something would come to him before it became important that he actually give an excuse to someone.

Tom spent most of the afternoon preparing ingredients and writing notes on a couple sheets of parchment, while Harry flipped aimlessly through his quidditch magazine. They chatted easily as they went, and Tom spent some time explaining some of the steps he was taking with the ingredients, why he was preparing them the way he was, and what effect they would have on the final potion.

At first, Harry figured it just helped Tom to work while speaking and felt like he was humoring him by listening, but he was surprised to find he was learning some new information and it was actually _interesting_.

Harry had certainly never learned from Snape that squashing a seed with the side of the blade would get more juice out of it than chopping the thing up would, but it seemed like decently useful information.

Tom even went to the trouble of asking Harry about his Quidditch magazine, even feigning interest in the outcome of the recent game between the Falmouth Falcons and the Chudley Cannons.

They took a break at one point to fix themselves something to eat, but ended up spending several hours just talking. What Harry found most astounding was that it was so easy to talk with Tom, when it really didn't seem like they should have such an easy time conversing.

Tom actually had some really interesting stories about his time in muggle London when he was younger. It was strange getting a picture of London during the end of the depression and running up to World War 2, from the view of someone who was a kid at the time. Tom's tale of his first few trips to Diagon Alley were fascinating to Harry, as Tom had done his trip without any guidance at all. He'd gotten his letter and a small scholarship stipend from Dumbledore, but had been left to his own devices as to what to do next.

Harry could definitely see how Tom could easily make his cover story work well with this in mind, especially since the wizarding world had a tendency to stagnate and hadn't honestly changed nearly as much as the muggle world had, in the last fifty years.

Harry also found that he didn't feel nearly as hesitant in sharing stories of his own childhood, as he always had with his friends. He'd never felt entirely comfortable telling _anyone_ about how the Dursley's treated him, and while he felt it was fairly obvious to Ron and Hermione that his relatives were awful, he hadn't been all that explicit about just what exactly they'd done.

But with Tom, it felt like he already had a general gist of it from his own spies, and Harry found he didn't feel _judged_ by Tom for what the Dursley's had done. Plus, it was obvious that Tom's own custodians growing up had been rather miserable and abusive. It was like, he was the first person who could really _understand_ at all.

The day ended with the pair heading into town and getting a bite to eat at one of the local restaurants, and then with Tom apparating Harry back to Number 4 Privet Drive.

— —

The next day, Tom apparated directly to Harry's room, once again, and once again, the pair left to Tom's cottage. The brewing was more intense this day, as the smaller cauldron's brew had completed the previous night and it was now time to add it to the potion boiling away in the large cauldron. A number of other ingredients had to be added in certain quantities are various intervals throughout the day, but there were enough small steps that happened within an hour of each other, that the two spent virtually the entire day in the work room.

They got one break that was long enough that Harry made them both a simple lunch and snacks that they each picked at while they worked for the rest of the afternoon.

Harry noted that he felt mildly pointless there, as Tom was the one doing all the real work, but Tom argued, insisting that he was glad just to have Harry's company, if nothing else.

Nagini also spent a good deal of the day with them, which was new for Harry, as she'd remained mostly scarce in all his previous visits. His interactions with her were a bit strained at the start, as he couldn't help but remember the awful vision he'd suffered through the previous December, and the subsequent month of recovery that Mr. Weasley had suffered through, to heal from her bite.

But as Tom pointed out, Harry quickly come to understand that she was just an animal, and as such, possessed no real malice of her own. She wasn't like a man who could hate another man, just because of his parentage. She was a familiar to a powerful wizard, and had done his bidding when bid to do so. Mostly, she was a creature of instinct, but also loyalty to Tom. While a Death Eater might take one look at the person Tom had changed into, and sneer in disgust and call him weak or damaged, Nagini saw no such shift. He as still just her master.

By the end of the day, Harry found he was actually able to enjoy conversing with her a bit. Mostly because it was such a weird experience to know he was speaking another language, and still not entirely able to tell.

"I spoke to a snake once, before I knew about magic or Hogwarts or anything," Harry admitted at one point as he watched with an entirely weird sense of fascination as Nagini swallowed a large rat whole. He wasn't sure what was weirder, watching her eat it, or the fact that it wasn't totally grossing him out.

It really should have been grossing him out.

"Oh?" Tom asked curiously as he thumbed through a heavy old spellbook, making notes in a loosely bound notebook of his own.

"Yeah. On my cousin Dudley's eleventh birthday, Mrs. Figg had broken her arm so she couldn't look after me. The Dursley's had planned on leaving me with her while they took Dudley and his friend to the zoo, but instead they had to take me with," Harry said as he stretched his hand out and gently pet the back of his knuckles along the length of Nagini's head and a good foot into her 'back'. She was _so_ smooth. Surprisingly soft, really…

"God forbid they take you somewhere interesting," Tom drawled sarcastically as he turned the page.

Harry made a small snorting sound. "Yeah," he agreed. "So at one point we went into this reptile house and Dudley was harassing this huge long boa by tapping incessantly on the glass. After he got bored, I walked over and said something to the boa… I really don't remember what, but it was probably some snark about Dudley. The placard said it was a Brazilian Boa, I think and I asked it how Brazil was, but then it sort of nodded its head towards another sign that said 'bred in captivity'. I probably made some remark about knowing what that was like… Anyway, looking back now, I must have done all that in parseltongue and just not realized at all."

"Mmm, no doubt. So did it speak back?"

"Well, with me talking to it, and it sort of reacting, Dudley took a sudden interest and ran over, shoving me out of the way and banging on the glass again. I fell on the floor and got annoyed. Next thing I know, the glass just vanishes and Dudley falls in. The snake slithers out, nods at me and says 'Thanks' before slithering away."

Tom chuckled. "I would have liked to see that."

Harry grinned, "Yeah, it was pretty brilliant. For all of thirty seconds, until Uncle Vernon came over, as purple as a turnip and about to blow his top."

"I really dislike your uncle," Tom grumbled under his breath, before scratching down a few more lines with his quill.

"Join the club."

"Your uncle often punished you for instances of accidental magic, correct?"

Harry grimaced. "Most of my punishments were because of accidental magic," he grumbled.

"And you had no idea what or how any of it was happening? How did you handle that?" Tom asked almost incredulously.

"I was angry; no question about that. It was unfair. I didn't get it, why these weird, stupid things always had to happen around _me_ , and why _I_ was always the one blamed for them. I think what made me the angriest about finding out I was a wizard, was realizing that Uncle Vernon had known _all those years_ , and punished me for _all_ those instances of accidental magic, and never told me the truth. That it was kept hidden from me, all that time. It was just so…" Harry grounded out a frustrated noise.

"Unfair," Tom finished.

Harry let out a humorless sound. "Yeah. Unfair."

Tom hummed and nodded.

"Honestly, it's a miracle you didn't become an Obscurus with an upbringing like that."

"What's an Obscurus?"

"It's a parasitical magical force that inhabits children that suppress their magic due to abuse. They end up incredibly powerful in short bursts when they lose control, but that power usually kills them before they reach age ten. You know… I almost wonder if Dumbledore _hoped_ that might happen. Then again, I have no idea what sort of affect sharing my soul would have on your ability to become an Obscurus."

"Huh…" Harry said, his brow creased as he took in that info and tried to make some sense of it.

"So it never occurred to you that the accidental magic incidents might actually be your doing?" Tom asked.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "I couldn't understand _how_. It had been drilled into my head that magic wasn't _real_. And that I was the most worthless, unimportant, undesirable person there was, so even if it was possible for magic to be real, _I_ certainly was the last person who could have it. Just saying the word 'magic' was warrant enough for punishment in that house. I was terrified to even _think_ about it."

"I _really_ dislike your uncle," Tom growled darker now.

"What was it like for you? How did you start to realize you could control it?" Harry asked, sitting up straighter.

"In my case, most of my instances of accidental magic sprung up when I was angry or scared," Tom said off-hand as he shut the book he was reading and reached across the table to grab a different one. He paused for a moment to flip several pages in before resuming. "The most common scenario was when one of the other children tried to take something from me, or when the older boys threatened to beat me up over some random transgression. My accidental magic saved my neck several times and there was a time when I was convinced I had a guardian angel. But when I confided in the local priest, he seemed more inclined to believe that I was possessed by a demon. He went to the matron, saying he wanted to perform an exorcism. She refused at first, bless her, but he managed to corner me one day anyway.

"It was during that incident that I first manifested an _intentional_ magical action. I wanted him pushed back against the wall, and I wanted the leather straps on my wrists _off_. I wanted it _so badly_ , and I just kept my eyes closed, focusing on those two things, trying to block out the _other_ things that were going on around me. And suddenly, I heard the plaster of the wall crack and felt my wrists release. I opened my eyes and the priest was unconscious on the floor with an indent in the wall from where he'd impacted it. The wrist straps were completely gone. I ran.

"After that, I tried repeatedly to make things happen _on purpose_ , and I practiced and practiced until I could do it reliably."

"Wow…" Harry said in a quiet tone. "I wonder if I could have done that…"

"Quite possibly," Tom said with a shrug. "It seems likely, seeing as how your soul and my soul are the same, and our magical signatures are identical."

"Yeah, but I don't see that as being really true - the magic being the same, I mean," Harry said, skeptically, leaning forward on his elbows, against the table. "I mean, I'm definitely _no where near_ as magically powerful as _you_ are. I've never been all that good at school, either. I'm about as average as it gets, but you were a prodigy or something, right?"

Tom made to open his mouth to say something when he paused suddenly and frowned thoughtfully. "I wonder…"

"Wonder, what?" Harry asked.

"Harry, do you mind if I cast a few diagnostic spells on you?"

Harry's eyes widened, but he nodded his head, hesitantly. "Uhm, okay."

Tom stood up, picking his wand up from the table where it had been resting beside his book. Harry couldn't help but eye the wand warily. It was easy to see Tom and _not think_ Voldemort, but it was difficult to see that wand and turn the same blind eye.

Tom walked around the heavy old table and waved his wand a few times around Harry in intricate motions, but never uttered a word. Harry could see a hazy glow of different colors floating around his head, but they were blurry and out of focus, like looking at some distant glowing light with his glasses off.

Tom expression suddenly hardened and his mouth formed a very tight, thin frown. "I honestly didn't think it was possible for me to hate Dumbledore any more than I already did."

"What?" Harry asked, feeling alarm building in his chest.

"He's placed a series of magical blocks on you."

"A what? What's that?!"

"An inhibitor. Powerful inhibitors are used on prisoners who possess a natural skill in wandless magic, to prevent them from performing magic while in Azkaban, despite having their wands taken. This is a far milder version of the same spell. It substantially reduces the amount of your own magic that you have access to."

"Are you kidding!?" Harry yelped, jumping out of his seat, looking horrified.

"It really does explain a lot," Tom whispered almost to himself. "Merlin, I should have realized sooner…"

"Explain what?" Harry asked, feeling a powerful sense of panic and horror. It was like he'd just learned that he'd been wearing a straitjacket his whole life with only one arm free, and he'd had no idea. Now that he knew, some part deep inside him was panicking with the need to get the unwanted thing off, and _now_.

"Wasn't there some incident with dementors in your third year? You took on about a hundred of them with a single spell?"

"I - yeah?" Harry said, haltingly.

"That's something I could easily do, but you'd be hard pressed to find many others who could," Tom mused. "You managed to break past the inhibitor in that instance, and access some of your full power."

"Oh… okay. So uhm… you can get rid of it, right?"

"The inhibitor?"

"Yes!"

"Of course," Tom said dismissively as he walked back around the table and to the opposite wall. He reached up and pulled a bundle of herbs down, tossing them on the table before going over to some of the shelves and grabbing a couple bottles and one of the smaller cauldrons.

"We have to brew a potion?" Harry asked glumly, hating the idea that he'd have to wait so long to get this awful thing removed.

"It won't take more than twenty minutes to brew, Harry. Don't worry," Tom said appeasingly as he began to lay out ingredients and pulled a cutting board over and one of the potions knives. His nimble fingers seemed to fly as he easily diced the already small seeds into a fine powder that he then carefully piled onto the scales until he had just the right amount. He moved that onto a small paper square and set it aside before moving onto the next ingredient.

"Measure two cups of purified water into the cauldron and start it over a low flame, please?" Tom said in an distracted tone as he worked. Harry blinked at him for a moment before hurrying around the table to do as asked.

Less than a half hour later, Tom was pouring a ladle of lightly steaming blue potion into a cup and handing it to Harry. Harry scrunched up his nose at the smell.

"It's warm, but it should feel cold going down," Tom explained.

"What will it taste like?"

"Awful," Tom said in a totally unapologetic tone. Harry grimaced. "It will work its way through your system slowly; breaking down the blocks over the course of the next two-to-three days. It has to be done gradually, so it's not a shock to your system. Once that's done, we'll begin some magical exercises, to get you used to the increased magical reservoirs."

"But I can't perform magic over the summer," Harry pointed out.

"You can while here," Tom said dismissively. "My wards block _all_ detection spells, including the underage Trace."

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean, I could have been using magic here, _all this time_ , and you never told me?"

"It hasn't really come up," Tom said with a shrug. "Were there a lot of instances where you needed it?"

"I - no," Harry said, annoyed. "I still would have liked to know that I could."

Tom gave Harry an amused grin. "Well, then you might like to know that I'm fairly confident that the same is true for your godfather's house."

"Huh?"

"Orion Black was about as paranoid as it gets in his later years. He hated and distrusted the Ministry with a fervent passion. He had _definitely_ placed the necessary wards around his home to block the Ministry's Trace, and unless those wards have been _intentionally removed_ , they're still there."

Harry's jaw fell open. "No way! That's _so_ unfair! We could have been using magic last summer? Mrs. Weasley had us clean that house _by hand!_ It was horrid!"

Tom's lip curled in obvious distaste. "Merlin, I can only imagine the state the place must have been in. Walburga died more than a decade ago, and even while inhabited that house was infested with any number of magical creatures. I imagine they would have bred like crazy without hinderance."

"They did," Harry said in a flat, unamused tone.

Tom barely smothered the obviously amused grin that tried to slip on his face. He cleared his throat and motioned towards the cup Harry was still holding. "Best drink up."

Harry heaved out an annoyed groan, took one last disgusted look at the potion before gulping it down.

He made an awful retching sound as he pulled the awful thing away from his lips. "Disgusting," he moaned.

"Never claimed it would taste good," Tom said unapologetically as he went back over to his stool from earlier and pulled the book and notebook he'd been working in thirty minutes prior, forward and resuming his work.

Harry huffed out an annoyed noise and made his way back around to where he'd been sitting earlier and sat himself back down as well. A minute later and Harry was shivering.

"Here, bundle up," Tom said, flicking his wand and summoning a blanket from some other room. It flew over and wrapped itself around Harry's shoulders.

"Is this normal? My veins feel like they've got ice in them," Harry muttered as he pulled the blanket more tightly around him.

"Normal."

"You could have warned me."

"It won't last long."

"Still could have warned me," Harry repeated.

Tom looked up at him and grinned, making Harry roll his eyes in annoyance.

The rest of the afternoon went by with little eventfulness and Tom took Harry back to Number 4 in time for dinner this time.

"So… tomorrow again?" Harry asked, as Tom seemed about prepared to leave again.

Tom opened his mouth but closed it again and frowned in thought for a moment. "I was thinking…" he started hesitantly, "There is very little to do with the potion tomorrow. Virtually nothing, in fact. It just has to remain at the optimal temperature and my spells will see to that. So, I was thinking that I would re-absorb the locket horcrux tomorrow."

"Oh," said Harry with some surprise and paused for a moment. "Uhm, can I help?"

Tom hesitated thoughtfully and actually bit his lower lip in one of those weirdly human gestures that Harry still had trouble associating with the other man. Harry found himself transfixed with how totally normal a gesture it was, but how strongly it caught his attention.

"To be completely honest… I quite desperately want you there," Tom said finally, with a weak, self-deprecating laugh, followed by a tired sigh. "I'm just afraid it would scare you," he added in a near-whisper.

"Scare me, how?" Harry asked.

"It's an… intense process. I was quite a mess afterwards last time. Admittedly, I don't entirely want you to see me in that state, but I suppose my own fear of the emotional state it puts me in is outweighing my pride."

Harry frowned, feeling legitimately concerned now. "I'll be there," he said firmly.

"You don't have to, Harry."

"I want to."

Tom gave Harry a small smile. "Thank you."

— —


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Remus Lupin reached the bottom landing of the main staircase just as the front door opened, revealing Tonks and Hestia Jones. He greeted them both and the three were soon heading down the hall towards the stairs that led to the basement kitchen. Mrs. Black's portrait had already been screaming bloody murder, since Moody had gone trumping through the hall a couple minutes before them, so they ignored her as best they could.

In the kitchen, they each took seats around the large wooden table that filled up the majority of the space there. Kingsley was already there, as was Hagrid, Arthur and Molly Weasley, Bill Weasley, Diggle, Vance, and Mundungus Fletcher, who Remus couldn't help but give a bit of a stink eye. He'd caught Dung twice now, trying to pinch some of Sirius' family heirlooms, and the man's insistence that Sirius didn't even _like_ his family things, plus he was _dead now,_ so it wasn't like _he needed them anymore_ , as an excuse for his actions, were far from sufficient in soothing Remus' displeasure.

Add on top of that the fact that Dung had apparently been doing a rather rubbish job in his duties to guard over Harry, and Remus considered the man virtually worthless at this point.

The door to the kitchen opened again and in walked Fred and George Weasley, both grinning quite smugly. A quick glance over at Molly Weasley, told Remus that she was less than thrilled to be seeing them there, but she didn't say anything, so Remus assumed this was an argument that had already taken place behind doors at the Burrow, and she had lost.

Arthur greeted them with a smile and the twins took the two seats to Hagrid's left.

The floo flared to life in the hearth and Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape stepped through a moment later.

Dumbledore sat at the head of the table and quickly called the meeting to order.

"Now, before I ask for any specifics, is there anything pressing that anyone wants to bring to the table first?" He asked, looking around the table at various members of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Yes, actually," Remus said, drawing everyone's gaze to him.

Dumbledore's bushy white eyebrows raised into his forehead. "Is this about the South Morrow wolf pack?"

"Uh, no. There's no news there, I'm afraid. Actually, it's about Harry."

"Harry?"

"Apparently he's been leaving Privet Drive and we have no idea where he's been going."

Dumbledore frowned. "Leaving?"

"Dung first noticed it a number of days ago," Remus went on, looking over at Mundungus.

Dumbledore turned his questioning gaze on Dung who looked disgruntled at being made the center of attention.

"He was just heading down to the park. I didn't pay it any mind," he said defensively.

"But he was _with_ someone, right?" Lupin pressed.

Dung huffed. "Yeah, he was with some young bloke I'd never seen before. It's not like the kid isn't allowed to have muggle friends, right? I just figured it was some kid he knew from the neighborhood."

Dumbledore frowned. "You're sure he was a muggle?"

"Well, not _sure_ ," Dung said defensively.

"I'm convinced he _wasn't_ a muggle, actually," Hestia Jones added. "I joined Dung the next day, and the boy came by again, but didn't stop at Harry's house that time. At least, not out in the open. He walked down the street, heading towards Number 4 but I _swear_ he saw us, even though we were both disillusioned, and just kept walking past instead."

"What did this boy look like?" Dumbledore asked.

"Tall, thin, probably around 18 years old, maybe? Chin-length black hair and dark eyes. I didn't get too close, so I couldn't tell you any more details than that," Hestia said.

"We think that Harry might have used his invisibility cloak to sneak out and meet up with the boy again, after that," Remus said.

"Yeah, when we did a check around lunch, it turned out Potter wasn't even in his house anymore, but we never saw him leave," Dung said. "We were watching the place the whole time, too. Happened again yesterday and today. No sign of Potter leaving the house, but when we check, he's not in there anymore."

Dumbledore hummed out a worried-sounding noise. "That is concerning. It's a dangerous time for Harry to be sneaking out unprotected. You're sure he's been back later in the day, though?"

"That first day that I saw the two of them leave towards the park together, I saw 'em walking back together too," Dung said. "The boy walked right up and went inside for a few minutes before leaving again. It was really late that night - way past dinner time. The other days Potter got back earlier though, but he's missed dinner twice. Yesterday he got back in time for it though."

"Interesting thing, though," Hestia added. "Yesterday I was using the spell to check the number of occupants in the house, right when the two of them got back, and it was _two_ of them, so the boy had to have slipped in the house with Harry for a bit, at least. He left about five minutes later."

"Well, that's a good sign at least, right?" Tonks asked. "I mean, if he were a Death Eater, he wouldn't be able to get in, right?"

"It surprises me that an unknown wizard of any nature can just go in there," McGonagall added, giving Dumbledore a questioning look.

"Intent is a large factor in whether or not the wards let someone new in," Dumbledore added. "Any witches or wizards with ill intent will be rejected by the wards."

"I saw them," Snape said, rather unexpectedly, drawing attention to him.

"Excuse me?" Dumbledore asked.

"Potter and this other young man. I saw them a couple days ago."

"Where?" Hagrid asked, looking surprised. "You don't watch Harry's house."

Snape sneered. "Of course not," he drawled. "I have more important things to do than waste my days staring at that muggle heap. I saw them in Dietzel's Apotheker in Grassington."

"Grassington?!" McGonagall exclaimed.

"What was Harry doing in _Yorkshire_?" Tonks added, incredulously.

"It would appear that they were buying potions ingredients," Snape responded dryly.

"Did you see what kind of ingredients they got?" Dumbledore asked.

"I saw a selection on the table before they left," Snape confirmed. "It's not possible, however, to tell exactly what sort of potion they might have been brewing. The young man purchased a large variety of ingredients, obviously to mask which of the items he actually needed. I could list two dozen different potions that would need one or two of those ingredients and none of the rest, all of significant variance in purpose and application."

Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully. "Did you speak to them?"

"Very briefly. I was surprised to see Potter there, of course. Next thing I know, this other young man injects himself between the two of us, standing there like some belligerent guard dog."

"Guard dog?" Fred asked, chuckling.

Snape sneered. "He seemed to be very… _protective_ of Potter. He was also exceedingly rude."

Remus couldn't help the small snort that escaped him at _Snape_ calling someone else _rude._ Snape glared at him for it. The Weasley twins seemed to find the sentiment humorous as well, if their muffled chuckles were anything to go by.

"Did you recognize him from the school?" Dumbledore asked Snape.

"No," Snape responded shortly, turning his gaze back to Dumbledore. "He was never a student at Hogwarts. That, or he was using a disguise, because I had never seen him before."

"Hmm.." Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully, looking concerned.

"Well, honestly, I can't really blame Harry for sneaking off," George said, and Fred nodded.

"Yeah, I mean, anyone here that's actually _met_ Harry's relatives should know just how vile that lot is," Fred continued.

"I can't even imagine how awful it would be for Harry to loose Sirius —" George started.

"— Just to go and have to stay with those twats," Fred concluded.

"If he's got a friend that he trusts enough to sneak off with —"

"— It doesn't surprise us in the least, that he would."

"But that's the thing," Remus pressed in, "just _who is_ this young man? How come none of us know anything about him? Fred, George, you're both closer to Harry, have either of you ever heard of Harry having a friend outside of Hogwarts who might fit this description?"

The twins looked at each other for a second before looking back at the group and shaking their heads. "No, no one," they said together.

"Maybe Ron or Hermione would know," Remus offered tiredly.

"Well, whether we can understand his reasoning or not," Molly Weasley cut in, "sneaking out like that is reckless of him. Absolutely dangerous! Look, Albus — if Harry is sneaking out because he doesn't want to be near his relatives, then he can come stay with _us_. We've got the wards updated, and with Fred and George in their own flat now, we've got more than enough room. I know it hasn't been all that long since the summer started, but if you think it's been enough time for the wards around the muggle's home to set or what have you, we'd be more than happy to take Harry in. It's just not safe for him to be going out unchaperoned like that!"

"You are absolutely right, Molly," Dumbledore agreed. "I think that I will pay Harry a visit and talk it over with him. No doubt, he will be thrilled with the chance to stay with your family again."

"What about his friend?" Fred asked, glancing between his mum and Dumbledore.

"What about him?" Molly asked, blinking in confusion.

"Well, if this guy gets the OK by the Order, you've got to decide if he's welcome at the Burrow," George picked up. "If Harry's meeting up with this bloke this often —

"— He might not be keen on staying at the house if it turns out he can't see his friend anymore," Fred finished.

"Oh. Well, he's welcome to visit as well, of course. That is, if Albus thinks he's safe," Molly amended quickly.

"Yes, I will be looking into him," Dumbledore said. "Now, I suppose that's dealt with for now. Severus, is there any news in regards to Death Eater activity?"

"None," Snape said with a short flat tone.

"None?" Dumbledore echoed, questioningly.

"None. There has been no contact with the Dark Lord for more than 15 days, and only a few spies received word at that point, and none in-person. No one has seen him in person since the attack on the Ministry, 20 days ago. No one seems to have any idea what is going on. And they're getting _restless_."

"Hmm… that is concerning," Dumbledore said stroking at his beard.

"Isn't it _good_ if You-Know-Who doesn't seem to be itching to cause trouble right away?" Emmeline Vance asked.

"Yes, but what _is_ he doing, is the question," Tonks said. "Because he's got to be doing _something_. Why just up and vanish?"

"You're sure you didn't wound him in that duel of yours?" Moody asked Dumbledore.

"This is not something I can take credit for," Dumbledore said, shaking his head. "I'm fairly confident that he sustained no serious injuries during our little scuffle."

"Scuffle," Kinglsey echoed incredulously, rolling his eyes.

"Do _you_ have any idea what he might be up to?" Moody asked Dumbledore.

"Not a clue, unfortunately."

The group fell into silence for a moment but it soon became apparent that no one had any further information of value on the subject, and continued conjecture with so little information would be a waste of time.

"Moving on, how are things going in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?" Dumbledore asked Kingsley, who proceeded to go into a lengthy discussion on the subject, with Tonks and Moody contributing bits here and there.

The meeting lasted another hour before finally drawing to a close and everyone dispersing the building, with word that the next meeting would be held at the Burrow.

— —

Harry wasn't sure he'd ever felt this helpless before. Tom was huddled in a heap on the floor in the center of a complicated ritual circle drawn in salt, and he'd been sobbing for the better part of the last fifteen minutes. Harry was standing at the doorway to the workroom, debating with himself how to proceed. He'd spent most of the last ten minutes out in the sitting room, where Tom had left him before beginning the ritual to reabsorb the locket horcrux. Tom had clearly been torn on the prospect of having Harry there at all, and it was obvious to Harry that a large part of Tom's reticence had been due to his not wanting Harry to see him break down like this.

But Harry could also tell that Tom was scared, and he knew the only reason Tom had allowed Harry to be here at all was because, at least some small part of him, did not want to be alone during this process.

And yet Harry had kept his distance, because that was the last thing that Tom had asked of him.

But Tom wasn't getting better, and it had been a _long time_. Or at least, it certainly felt like it.

Harry walked quietly into the workroom, towards where Tom was curled up on the floor. His shoulders still shook every now and then with another brief round of uncontrollable shudders, but they were becoming fewer and farther between.

From what Harry understood, the spell Tom had had to subject himself to, induced a series of hallucinations or visions, designed to make Tom understand the full range of pain and loss, and all the repercussions and implications of his murder of whoever's death had been used to create that horcrux. Only after he experienced the pain of the victim as well as the pain of all of the lives touched by the victim's death; all of the people who had loved them and mourned them; and felt true remorse, could the power holding his soul in the horcrux be broken and the piece within it merged back into his primary soul.

Harry hoped that, surely by now, that had happened. But he wasn't sure, and the last thing he would want to do was interrupt the process, making all this suffering for nothing. If he screwed something up and Tom had to do it over again… Harry wasn't sure how he'd forgive himself for that.

A sudden and surprising sob shook itself free from Tom and his shoulders shook with several rough, shuddering breaths. Harry felt a shift in the air and noticed that the salt-drawn runes on the floor beneath Tom were no longer impervious, as Tom's most recent movements had disturbed them, where they had remained magically undisturbed up until now.

" _Harry…"_ Tom whimpered, and Harry rushed over, kneeling down and hovering his hand over Tom's back for a moment before bringing it down and resting it on him.

Tom's shudders seemed to reduce almost instantly and he arched his back towards Harry almost unconsciously.

"I'm here," Harry said as he began rubbing his hand reassuringly up and down Tom's back. "I think it's over."

Tom's head nodded weakly.

"I'm a monster," Tom rasped out in a shaky voice.

"Don't say that," Harry said. "That's not you, anymore."

A weak, humorless laugh seemed to cough it's way out of Tom's throat. "I'm me, Harry. I did those things. There are no excuses… they're inexcusable… I…"

"But you wouldn't do it now, right?" Harry offered questioningly.

Tom's head shook roughly side-to-side. "No," he rasped in a pained voice. "She had a daughter, you know… I didn't know…" he let out a humorless laugh. "I didn't care."

"She?"

"Jennifer Miller… I didn't even know her name, you know. Not till tonight…"

"The muggle you killed when you created the locket horcrux?"

Tom nodded dully before rolling over so he was now facing Harry. Harry made to pull his hand away but Tom reached out and grabbed it and stared at Harry's hand as he twined their fingers together. "I can't believe you're willing to be here with me. I've done so many terrible things to you…"

"I don't see you like that," Harry said, shrugging.

"I don't deserve to be seen as anything but a monster."

"Everyone deserves a second chance."

Tom squeezed his eyes shut, gripping Harry's hand tighter in his own and shaking his head. "I deserve nothing but pain," he whispered.

"Tom, _please_ ," Harry said, leaning forward and reaching his free hand up and resting it against Tom's head, threading his fingers through Tom's hair.

Tom's breathing seemed to calm down and the tension in his shoulders and back seemed to melt away a bit. His death grip against Harry's hand seemed to loosen as well, which Harry was admittedly grateful for.

Neither of them said anything for several moments longer, and Harry kept aimlessly combing is fingers through Tom's long smooth hair. It had a gentle wave to it, and it reminded Harry a bit of Sirius' hair, which sent a small pang of remorse through his chest. But then Harry's gaze went to the large cauldron sitting in the hearth over a low flame, gently simmering away. Part of Harry still didn't dare let himself hope it would really work, but another part of him was really starting to get excited.

If anyone could bring Sirius back… it was Tom.

"You do deserve a second chance," Harry said, breaking the long silence. "But maybe you have to earn it, too. You know… try to use this chance to do some good. You're probably the most powerful wizard in the world. You can do things that other wizards wouldn't even have the guts to _imagine_."

"I don't know what I could do… what could possibly make up for all the harm I've caused?" Tom asked, looking up and making direct eye contact with Harry for the first time since this had begun.

"I don't know," Harry shrugged, "but it doesn't necessarily have to all be big stuff. Just keep doing lots of smaller things. Just… just keep trying to be the best person you can be. That's really all you can do, I think."

Tom's gaze seemed detached as he looked away and stared into the distance beyond Harry's shoulder. He'd loosened his grip on Harry's hand, but now he was aimlessly brushing their fingers together. Harry felt a shudder run from his fingers, all the way down his spine. But it wasn't a bad shudder, just unexpected.

Finally Tom pulled in a deep breath, pushed it out, and released Harry's hand. His hand shook lightly for a moment before he maneuvered it underneath himself and pressed it against the floor, slowly pushing himself up into an upright position.

"Thank you," he said softly, looking up and meeting Harry's eyes. Harry felt his heart rate increase and a heat in his chest seemed to grow and tighten for a moment as they held each other's gaze.

Harry ducked his head and shrugged. "It was nothing."

"It was much more than _nothing_."

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, feeling stupid the second he'd said it.

"I'll be okay," Tom replied giving Harry a weak grin as he reached up and tried to brush his hair out of his face.

Tom stood up and succeeded in pushing the unruly hair behind his ears. Harry stood as well and took a moment to look Tom over and take in the changes in his appearance. His hair was longer than it had been before, and Tom was shorter now, putting him only an inch or two taller than Harry.

"How bad is it?" Tom asked, catching Harry off balance.

"How bad is what?" Harry asked.

"I've de-aged again, yes?" Tom asked. The raspiness was clearing from his voice making it more obvious now that even it had changed slightly. The pitch was a bit higher now, making him sound a tad younger. He raised his hand and looked at it as he experimented with opening and closing his fist and stretching out his fingers. "I feel… strange."

"I'd say you only look one or two years younger," Harry said "I mean, before I would have guessed 19 or 20, and now… well, maybe 16 or 17? So I guess that's more like two to three years…"

Tom let a weak humorless chuckle pass through his lips before he sighed again. "Hopefully, the de-aging will reduce in intensity with subsequent horcruxes. If I lost two years for every remaining horcrux, I would end up being inconveniently young."

"Er… yeah," Harry agreed, trying to do the math in his head and realizing he wasn't even sure how many horcruxes were left.

"I suspect it will lessen considerably though," Tom said as he walked weakly towards the large table and leaned his weight against the side of it and tried to steady himself. "The first absorption was supposed to be the equivalent to more than half a soul and it set me down to my early thirties. And while my previous body did not display my age in the normal sense, I _was_ seventy, so that's quite a de-aging. The second horcrux was about a quarter of a soul and it knocked me down to 19 or 20, shaving off perhaps 9, maybe 10 years. This one was one-eighth of a soul and shaved off only two to three years. I can reasonably assume any further re-absorptions will result in significantly smaller changes."

Harry nodded a bit dazed, agreeing that that sounded about right, but reeling slightly at the reminder of how old Tom _really_ was.

"Speaking of the other horcruxes… what's left?" Harry asked.

"The next one is a golden cup once owned by Helga Hufflepuff, and it is unfortunately stored in Bella's Gringott's vault."

"Wait, it's in _Gringotts?"_

Tom pushed himself up to sit on the stool nearest him, making a bit of a face as he apparently noticed his decreased height. "I have no doubt that I could get her to retrieve it for me, so long as I made use of some glamours and a little wandwork to temporarily restore my old appearance, however it's debatable whether or not it would be safe to send her after it at this time."

"How could she get to it at all?" Harry asked. "She's wanted by the Ministry, I would assume she couldn't just walk into Gringott's and ask to visit her vault."

"The goblins are neutral parties, and they often turn a blind eye to whether someone is 'wanted' by the Ministry or not. Their vaults are considered sovereign territory, so the Ministry can't even try to lay claim to a person's vault, no matter what crimes the person may be accused of. The Ministry wasn't even able to gain access to any of _my_ vaults, and you can believe they tried."

"Wait, if you've got your own vaults, why did you have Bellatrix put the cup in _her_ vault?" Harry asked.

"Bellatrix's vault is an old family vault that she inherited from her mother. These are not the sorts of vaults that new customers can just _request_. They are of the highest security level, and in the lowest bowels of the goblin's cave systems. The number of security systems a person would have to get past to just _reach_ these vaults is unsurpassed. It was not the sort of vault that I personally could acquire, but it was the only level of security I was satisfied with, for protecting my horcrux. It was also intended as a sign of my faith in her as a loyal follower, not that she knew what it actually was - but she knew it was _important_."

"Well, she's definitely has been loyal," Harry said with a mildly derisive tone.

Tom heaved another tired sigh, reaching his hand up and brushing his hair out of his face again. He made a bit of a scowl at it as he reached up again, pulling it all back with one fist and tying it off with a piece of twine from one of the herb bundles.

"That's it! Tomorrow I'm getting a haircut," he declared, obviously annoyed with his hair. "The length has gotten entirely ridiculous. I can only imagine how badly it looks. Anyway, like I was saying, the goblins are generally unconcerned with whether or not the Ministry wants to arrest one of their customers, and only cares about the customer having proof of their identity. But Bellatrix would still need to get _into_ the bank in the first place, and I suspect the Ministry's security presence _around_ the bank has been heightened considerably at this time. It would probably be wise to give it some more time before asking her to retrieve the horcrux from her vault. Merlin knows the last thing that I want is to have to try and _break into_ the vault to get the horcrux back, but if Bella got herself captured by the Ministry, that's exactly what I would have to resort to."

Harry hummed and nodded. "And any others? Horcruxes, I mean."

Tom sighed. "The only other remaining horcrux is presently hidden in Hogwarts, making it the least accessible of them all, to me."

"Hogwarts?!" Harry exclaimed. "You're kidding! How'd you get it in there?"

Tom smirked weakly. "When I was in my 30's the Defense Against the Dark Arts post became available again and I went in for an interview. I took advantage of that visit to slip down the right corridor and hide the horcrux in a secret place I used to visit when I was a student there."

Harry gaped at him. "Wait, _you applied for the DADA post?"_

"Dumbledore turned me down, of course," Tom sneered and scowled. "I actually applied for the Defense post twice. Armando Dippet was the Headmaster the first time I applied, and he said I was too young at the time. I wonder some times what might have happened if he'd actually accepted my application… I'd made two horcruxes by that point, but I never would have come across the locket or cup if I'd stayed at Hogwarts, and I'm not convinced I would have followed through with my loose plans to create more, had I never found them…"

Tom shook his head as if to shake the thoughts away. "It hardly matters, anymore. Although this topic does remind me of something I ought to attend to."

"What?"

"Removal of the curse on the Defense post."

"So that _was_ you?!" Harry exclaimed. "You really did curse the post?"

"I did it after Dumbledore turned me down the second time I applied."

"Such a mature way to handle rejection," Harry drawled with an air of sarcasm.

Tom pinned him with an amused glare, barely suppressing a smirk. "Are you teasing me?"

Harry grinned back, innocently.

Tom chuckled and shook his head. "Well, now that this particular chore is done away with, is there anything you'd like to do with the remainder of our day? It's not yet even mid-day and there's nothing to do with the potion till nearly midnight, so there's no real need to remain here all day."

"We could get you that haircut now," Harry offered with a shrug.

"Surely that would be boring for you."

Harry gave him a dismissive wave with one hand. "I could use one too. Mrs. Weasley usually cuts my hair during the summers, but there's nothing wrong with being a little pro-active about it. I've never actually had my hair cut by a professional."

"Haircuts it is, then," Tom said with a light laugh. "Then we eat."

— —

Later that night, Harry climbed the stairs in Number 4 and returned to his room after another uncomfortable dinner with the Dursley's. It was getting to the point where Harry was seriously considering just _asking_ Tom if they could eat dinner together too, just so he could avoid this one unpleasant interaction Harry still had to endure with his relatives.

He knew that they'd prefer his absence as well, as they seemed to be fairly satisfied with pretending Harry didn't exist at all during the days when Harry wasn't there.

Harry slipped into his room and closed the door behind him, walking over and letting himself fall heavily onto his bed. It groaned under his weight and the thin spring mattress creaked and squeaked. Harry heaved a sigh and stared up at the ceiling for a moment before pushing himself up into a sitting position and reaching over to his desk and grabbing the two magazines laying there.

One was the quidditch magazine and Harry tossed it back to the side, as he'd gone through the entire thing, cover-to-cover by this point. The other one he hadn't yet bothered to look over, and wasn't even really familiar with as the only reason he'd had for grabbing it in the first place was the ad for Fred and George's shop that he'd seen on the back cover.

Now Harry actually took a moment to look at the _front_ cover.

' _The Bent Wand'_ was written across the top with a gnarled looking wand interweaving between the letters. Below that was a large photo of a male wizard wearing Quidditch Robes that Harry recognized as belonging to the Pride of Portree team. He was fairly sure the guy on the cover was their seeker, but wasn't familiar enough with the team to know off hand.

' _Dougal McBride shows his PRIDE!_ Portree Seeker Discusses His Coming Out.' captioned the main featured story. Below it was written ' _Summer Fashions! Holy Hotness!',_ and then ' _Matilda Minx: "To Say I'm a Drama Queen Would Be An Understatement!"_

Harry frowned at it in mild confusion for a moment, trying to work out just what kind of magazine it was, when a very slow dawning light seemed to begin to glow in the back of his mind. Harry flipped through the magazine, skimming the table of contents for the story titles and then flipping through some of the articles themselves.

If it hadn't already been obvious enough from the cover and the article titles, getting to the 'fashion photo spread' in the middle, made it blatantly obvious to Harry, just what sort of magazine he'd picked up. It was a periodicals magazine, aimed at gay wizards. Nothing explicit or pornographic, but it was certainly _not_ the sort of magazine Harry would have ever picked up intentionally.

His face went red hot as he suddenly wondered if Tom had noticed what it was when they'd bought the thing in the first place.

Harry groaned, feeling utterly mortified and burying his face in his hands. He hadn't looked at it close enough before to realize just what it was, and what glance he had spared it had just showed a quidditch player on the front. It had seemed harmless enough.

Harry paused then, turning the magazine to the back and looking at Fred and George's ad.

 _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes Joke Shop Emporium!_

It was a totally normal ad - or as normal as an ad for a joke shop run by Fred and George ever could be. Harry wondered what had possessed them to buy advertising in a _gay wizard_ magazine. Harry shook his head, shrugging the curiosity off. and tossing the magazine to the side. He was about to head over to his trunk and dig out a book, when his eyes fell back on the magazine one more time and something caught his attention.

Harry reached over and picked it back up, curiosity winning over embarrassment. It had fallen open to a page somewhere in the middle, on an article titled _'Not out yet? Need a friendly ear? The Starling Anonymous Penpal Service Answers the Prayers of the Closeted Wizards of Britain"._

Harry rest the magazine in his lap and began to read the article.

 _Founded two years ago by Wolfgang Starling and his partner, Maxwell Pertwee, the Starling Penpal Service fills a much needed void in the support group form for young LGBT witches and wizards. Simply sign up, detailing your preference in penpal match - gender, age range, whether they're out or closeted as well, and many other options - and you'll be assigned an anonymous penpal. You and your penpal are each sent a small delivery box. To send a letter, simply put it in the box and it's magically sent directly to your partner's box, and vice versa, keeping all communications totally anonymous. This protects both parties, erasing concerns about sensitive communications going through a middle-man or any risk of your conversations being mis-delivered or intercepted._

 _Penpals can safely confide in their match, knowing that their identity is safe, and getting advice and support from a fellow witch or wizard who knows and understands the sorts of problems they're facing in their daily lives…_

Harry paused, looking thoughtfully down at the article as a surprising idea began to brew in the back of his mind. He hadn't yet managed to come up with any viable excuse for how he and Tom had come to know each other, and he knew with each passing day, the chances increased that he might find himself in a situation where that was a story he would need to have sorted out.

An anonymous penpal service where people are randomly assigned to each other, could certainly explain how Harry would have come to meet someone that he would normally have absolutely no way to have encountered.

These delivery boxes would also solve the question of _how_ they would have communicated during the last year, seeing as how Harry's post was being monitored by Umbridge almost the entire school year.

The only serious problem was that it was a service intended for witches and wizards who were… well, _gay_. Harry wasn't sure how Tom would even _react_ to such a suggestion. Would he be offended to have the idea even presented? Harry had to remind himself that, despite appearing quite young now, Tom was born in the 20's. He'd spent 7 years in _Slytherin_ house, where conservative values reigned supreme.

Given Tom's history, Harry would hardly be surprised if it turned out the man held certain homophobic beliefs. Beliefs Harry was more than familiar with, as 'poofs' were probably the only group of people that Uncle Vernon hated as much as he hated wizards.

As Harry pondered over all of this, he had a moment of dawning realization where it struck him how little the idea bothered _him_. The idea of using the excuse that he'd signed up to be an anonymous penpal to a gay wizard, for moral support, didn't seem to really bother him any, when he was sure it would have terrified him to even suggest such a thing at one point.

Harry could probably go with the story that he was bi, instead of just gay. It would mesh well with the train-wreck of a relationship he'd had with Cho this last school year. It had only been the most awkward and confusing social interaction of his life. Merlin, that would even work well with the cover story! He could say he turned to a penpal after his Valentines date with Cho proved to be such a nightmare. Or even that kiss just before the Christmas holidays — in all honesty, it had left him rather confused. He'd been excited at the time - it was his _first kiss_ after all - and he'd been sure for months at that point, that he fancied Cho. And yet the kiss itself hadn't really been anything all that special. Mostly it had been… wet. And awkward. She _had_ been crying, after all. And it left him feeling guilty, for some reason.

In any case, this plan also provided the perfect excuse for why he'd kept Tom secret, even from his friends. Insecurity about coming out was totally a reasonable excuse for secrecy! Hell, the very real uncertainty he had over how _Ron_ would react to the whole thing was probably the one real bit of anxiety making Harry second guess the plan. How would people react if they thought he was gay? Was he really okay with using that as a cover-story? The idea of lying to Ron or Hermione was the most displeasing part of it all, but the hard reality was that everything was just so convoluted and dangerous, he had few other choices.

He could hardly tell them the _truth_. Could he? Tell them that he'd discovered that he was actually just an extension of Voldemort's soul in another body, and that everything he'd thought he knew was an elaborate lie constructed by Dumbledore, in an attempt to destroy the Dark Lord? Oh, and his new bestest buddy was, in fact, Voldemort, himself. But he was _better_ now. _Really!_

Yeah, that… wouldn't go over well.

Harry supposed that worrying over it was a bit pointless at this moment, since this was definitely a decision that he and Tom would have to come to, together. Tom had basically told Harry that _he_ needed to come up with this part of their cover story, and that whatever Harry came up with was fine by him, but Harry couldn't in good conscience make _this_ choice without consulting Tom first.

— —


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"So… that's basically the idea," Harry said nervously as he sat on the edge of his bed and Tom sat backwards on Harry's wobbly desk chair, holding the magazine in his hands, resting on the back of the chair and looking over the article on the penpal service, the next morning.

Tom was looking down at the article thoughtfully, biting the inside of his cheek and twisting his mouth up in another one of those human gestures that had a strangely transfixing effect on Harry. His hair was much shorter and neater now, and that, combined with his decrease in physical age from the previous day, made Tom look decidedly different now. Harry couldn't help but find himself looking over Tom's features critically.

He really was a terribly handsome young man, but he had more of a boyish quality to him now. It was —

"It's rather brilliant, actually," Tom finally said, handing the magazine back.

"Really?" Harry said, caught off guard by the response. "I mean, you're really okay with it? With people thinking you're gay?"

"Well, I am, and seeing as how I'm no longer bothering to pretend to be pureblood, I see little point in pretending to be straight either, so that's hardly the issue," Tom said, rolling his eyes and making a dismissive gesture with his hand. "I honestly thought that the biggest concern here was that people would likely assume we're involved, if we go with this cover story."

Harry found quite suddenly that his heart was racing, and he wasn't quite sure why. Or at least, he convinced himself he didn't know why. "I-involved?" Harry asked.

"Well, yes - the idea is that, originally, each of us would have signed up for this penpal service as an anonymous support mechanism for our internal struggles dealing with our sexuality, correct?"

Harry nodded.

"Right," Tom continued, "But at some point over the course of our written correspondence, we decided to drop the 'anonymous' portion and reveal our actual identities to each other. The fact that we've been meeting in person, would suggest that whatever relationship we had established through written letters, had become close enough that _you_ felt safe enough to see me in person. We could obviously go with the excuse that you were desperate for some form of support in light of your godfather's death, and your forced seclusion with the Dursley's made dealing with his death incredibly painful. You _needed_ someone, and I offered. Simple. But a situation of that nature would easily lend itself towards a level of closeness many people would associate with a romantic relationship. It seems a natural assumption for people to eventually make. Are you sure _that's_ something _you'd_ be comfortable with?"

Harry's mouth floundered and he started at Tom, as the other man looked questioningly back at Harry.

And then it struck him; "Yeah. I think I'd be fine with that," Harry found himself replying in a soft voice.

Something in the way he said it, or the way he looked must have caught Tom's attention, because his own expression shifted in response. A somewhat confused look flashed through his eyes and his brows puckered together slightly. He blinked at Harry and Harry just blinked right back, and the moment stretched on longer than was comfortable. Harry didn't even know what was going on. His face felt hot and his chest was tight, and he felt strangely confused all of a sudden.

Tom cleared his throat and looked away, breaking the strange moment and giving Harry the chance to look away and breath again.

"Well then," Tom said, but his tone was much less confident than it had been before, "I suppose we have our cover story."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, because he didn't know what else to say.

"Right." Tom stood up then, and offered his hand out, catching Harry off guard. "We ought to get to my place. Today is going to be a busy day."

"It is?" Harry asked.

"We're starting our magical exercises today," Tom said, grinning. "That potion to dissolve your magical inhibitors should have finished doing it's job. We need to get you accustomed to your real magical reserve levels."

Harry's eyes widened and he felt real excitement fill his chest now, erasing the tight, hot knot that had filled it moments earlier. "Merlin, I'd almost forgotten!" he exclaimed.

Tom grinned. "Well, fortunately, _I_ didn't."

— —

The two spent the whole day in Tom's cottage going over various strange and unusual magical exercises. It wasn't normal spell casting, as Harry had ever known it, and instead involved a lot of visualizing and mentally moving around his magic in ways Harry had never tried to do before.

And yet it had been easy to feel his magic, and easier still to feel it moving about in his body and in the air around him. Easier than magic had ever been for him, before. It felt like it was right there, the moment he wanted it, and it was so _eager_ to do what he wanted. It had always felt _reluctant_ before. And his magic had almost always felt like it was _just_ beyond his grasp. Like he was stretching and straining to reach for something that he couldn't quite see.

But now it was a blazing sun that couldn't be missed, and it warmed him, and set his skin on fire with power.

It was exhilarating and mildly terrifying, all at once.

And Tom was _perfect_ at making it all make sense.

Hermione had always been terrible at making Harry understand something that he was having trouble grasping. Harry realized that it was mostly because Hermione's approach to learning, and to magic, was just so hugely different than Harry's. She got frustrated with anyone who didn't just _get it_ the way _she_ did. But Harry's mind didn't work the way her's did, and his magic didn't respond the way she explained it should.

That was not a problem with Tom's explanations.

Harry realized it made a certain sort of sense that the way Tom understood and manipulated his magic would work for Harry. They were sort of two halves of the same person… or two halves of the same soul, that had become two different people. In any case, their soul was the same, and their magic was the same too.

It was an exhilarating day overall, and Harry hardly wanted it to end. Tom explained that there was still several more days of brewing before Sirius' resurrection potion would be ready for use, and the only maintenance it required was mild and infrequent until the day before it would be complete, so they could continue to use their days to keep working on Harry's lessons.

It was an offer that Harry had eagerly accepted, feeling a real sense of excited anticipation for the coming week.

Tom dropped Harry off at the Dursley's that night with a promise of an early morning the next day, offering to come get Harry for breakfast, even.

"Brilliant, then," Tom said, smiling at Harry in a way that made his chest feel strangely inflated and bubbly. "Breakfast food, is one of those things I'm quite confident with, as far as cooking is concerned. I make a rather mean omelet, so be prepared to eat."

"You're going to cook?" Harry asked, feeling almost like laughing, if not for the fact that he also felt quite happy.

"Is that so hard to believe? I had to cook for myself for most of my life. I'm reasonably good at quite a lot, but breakfast if something I've always felt I excelled at."

Harry grinned and rolled his eyes. "You excel at everything you do."

"Generally, yes," Tom replied. He grinned at Harry then and reached out with one hand, brushing his narrow, graceful fingers over Harry's hair. Harry felt as if his heart had just stopped for a moment, and all the air had suddenly vanished from his chest.

"Sorry," Tom said softly. "You just had a bit of something in your hair."

"Oh."

Tom's hand hovered there for a moment, as if an internal battle was being waged, before the hand was quickly lowered.

"Well… goodnight."

"Right. Goodnight."

"Sweet dreams, Harry," Tom added, and Harry felt Tom's hand brush up against his own, hanging at his side, before Tom spun on the spot and vanished with the faintest of cracks.

Harry stood there in silence for a long pause before pressing a deep breath out of his lungs and reaching up to rub his face with his hands.

"What the hell…" Harry mumbled, feeling disoriented with his own reactions. "I've gotta be out of my mind…"

Harry checked the time, knowing that the Dursley's had probably just finished their dinner and that they'd probably all be gathering around the telly right about now.

Tom had treated Harry to middle-eastern shawarma that night, and Harry was quickly finding that all of these meals out were starting to spoil him. Tom never seemed to worry about money, but Harry couldn't help but wonder if he should really continue to let Tom keep buying him things. Harry had tried several times now to pay for himself, but Tom kept beating him to it. He always got this triumphant smirk when he succeeded and Harry had to admit part of him found the whole thing rather amusing. Kind of… charming.

Harry had just started to debate with himself over the prospect of taking a bath now, while the Dursley's were all downstairs for the next hour or two, when the doorbell rang. Harry frowned. Admittedly, he'd isolated himself from the Dursley's enough that he wouldn't know if a visitor was expected, but generally the Dursley's didn't have guests this late in the evening.

His curiosity getting the better of him, Harry slipped out of his room and went over to the top of the stairs where he could peer down and just barely see the front door.

Uncle Vernon had reached the door, just as Harry reached the top landing, and if Vernon's grumbling was anything to go by, this was not an expected visitor.

Uncle Vernon pulled the door open and took a large step backwards with a gesture that Harry recognized as shock combined with horror.

"Y- _you!_ " was all he got out, before a figure stepped inside, and Harry felt as if his heart had just seized in his chest.

It was Dumbledore.

"Now just you hold on a minute!" Vernon said, puffing up his chest and taking an aggressive step forward. "You can't just show up here, unannounced!"

Harry found himself staggering backwards as fear swirled through his mind. All he could think was, _I'm not ready for this!_

He and Tom had absently discussed the need to start some _real_ occlumency lessons for Harry, before the summer was out, so Harry could be more prepared to protect his mind from Dumbledore and Snape, but _that hadn't happened yet._

The last time Harry had interacted directly with Dumbledore, Harry had been in a state of shock. He'd only just learned the truth from the Sidhe, and had just lost Sirius. Then, Dumbledore had gone and dropped the whole prophecy rubbish on his head… well it had been perfectly understandable at that time for Harry to be dazed and keep his eyes trained on the desk or the floor. And denial had still been a very prevalent force in Harry's mind.

There had just been _so much_ to process, that Harry hadn't been in a position to really think about the potential danger he could be facing. Despite all that the Sidhe had revealed, Harry still felt like there was so much that he still didn't know or understand about Dumbledore or his motives.

Just how far would Dumbledore go, if he realized that Harry knew the truth now?

Was any of that goodness that Harry had seen in Dumbledore, all these years, really real? Was it all an act and the man was actually really evil? Harry found that he had to believe that it wasn't _all_ a lie. Perhaps he was being naive, but he honestly didn't think that Dumbledore was an _evil_ man. He'd done horrible things, but he'd done it while convinced that what he was doing was necessary. Harry didn't feel that Dumbledore had any right _at all_ to be the one who decided who lived and who died, but he could see how Dumbledore could have convinced himself that what he was doing was right.

So if the man had honestly convinced himself that he was doing _the right thing_ , did Harry maybe have a chance of… of what? Talking him out of it? Could a man who had dug himself so deeply into a hole, possibly be convinced to turn back and go down a different path?

Plus, there were other days, when the fear was overridden entirely by the anger, that Harry just wanted to scream and smash things. Times where he was consumed with the monumentally heavy reality that Dumbledore had totally and utterly betrayed him, and that he _deserved_ to suffer for all the wrong he'd committed.

This was the man who had been kind to his parents; _mentored_ them, and gone to their wedding, and promised to protect them and their child; all the while, plotting their death and using them as bait.

Something so vile deserved punishment. _Deserved_ to suffer. The hate would boil up in Harry's gut until he felt like he would choke on it. _And it was terrible._

Did Harry really stand a chance of keeping any of these thoughts and feelings from Dumbledore? He and Tom had come up with this elaborate cover story, but Harry was suddenly faced with the prospect of actually _lying_ to someone. And not just anyone, but someone who could _read his mind_ , too.

 _I'm not ready for this!_

"BOY!"Vernon Dursley's voice bellowed out from downstairs.

Harry felt cold all over. Part of him felt a dread like he'd only experienced a few times before, and comically enough, those times had been when encountering Voldemort. The extreme reversal was almost absurd, and there was still some tiny part of Harry that wished, _desperately_ , that he could ignore all that the Sidhe had told him, and go back to believing that Dumbledore was really on his side, and really and truly only wanted what was best for Harry.

But he knew that wasn't true.

"BOY!" Vernon yelled again, causing Harry to jump slightly before he forced himself to go down the stairs. Dumbledore was standing there with that warm, genial smile and the twinkle in his eye that disarmed nearly everyone who stood before him. Harry quickly averted his eyes from the man's direct gaze.

Vernon, however, was red-faced and furious looking, and Petunia and Dudley were standing in the hallway now, as well. Vernon turned to glare daggers at Harry. "You've got fifteen minutes," he ground out through clenched teeth, before turning and storming down the hallway and into the kitchen. Petunia followed suit an instant later, with Dudley running past Harry and up the stairs, leaving Harry standing there alone, with Dumbledore.

"Hello my dear boy. It's so good to see you again. Shall we go to the sitting room?" Dumbledore asked calmly.

Harry dared to glance at him for an instant before ducking his head and nodding.

 _Don't let him look into your eyes!_

"Uhm, sure, Professor," Harry said, turning and going into the sitting room. The telly was still on, but the volume was all the way down. Harry sat on the couch, and Dumbledore, looking more out of place in the Dursley's perfect muggle living room than seemed possibly reasonable, came over and sat beside him. Harry found he was slightly relieved at this seating arrangement, as it made it easier to avoid making eye contact.

"I do apologize for visiting without any notice," Dumbledore began.

"Oh, um, it's fine," Harry mumbled with a shrug, while internally screaming that it most certainly _wasn't fine._

"How are you doing, Harry?" Dumbledore asked in a kind, concerned voice.

Harry bitterly made several scathing remarks in his head, but kept them to himself. "I'm fine," he said instead.

"I know that this must be a very difficult time for you, Harry, and I do understand that it's got to be especially difficult coping with everything that has happened, while here at your relatives home, but I hope you also understand why it's been so important that you remain here?"

Harry wanted to make quite a few scathing remarks in response to _that_ , but once again, bit his tongue. "The wards," he muttered and shrugged, cringing as he realized it came out sounding quite bitter.

"Yes, the wards," Dumbledore agreed. "It is of the utmost importance that you be able to call this house your home, until you turn seventeen. The magic that keeps this house, you, and your family safe, must recognize that this is _your home_ and you can return to it when ever you have need to do so."

Harry found himself scowling down at the floor between his knees as he sat hunched over with his elbows rested on his thighs.

"While the wards are very powerful, and protect you while you are within the house, given the dangerous nature of recent events, several members of the Order have volunteered to take guard duty over your neighborhood, keeping a watch out for any potential Death Eater activity," Dumbledore went on and Harry spared him a small sideways glance.

"Oh yeah? Who?" Harry asked, having honestly wondered who it was that Tom had sensed watching the house.

"Hm? Oh, well, there's Mundungus Fletcher, Hestia Jones, Remus —"

"Remus was out there?" Harry asked, feeling hurt. "Why haven't any of them ever… I don't know - _said hi?_ Would it really be so dangerous for them to let me know that they're there? Or just say 'hi' at the end of the day? Maybe drop off a copy of the Daily Prophet? Maybe even deliver me some post?" Harry realized his voice had been getting louder, so he forced himself to stop and look back down at the floor between his feet.

Dumbledore sighed. "I realize now that you must feel extremely isolated here, Harry, and I do apologize.

Harry felt like letting out a bitter laugh, but held it in.

"I also realize that this sense of isolation might lead towards reckless behavior. The Order members who have been keeping an eye on Privet Drive have noticed your frequent absence from the house lately, and have become concerned."

Harry couldn't reign in the scowl that plastered itself across his face at that comment.

"Concerned?" Harry echoed with bitter humor.

"We just want to keep you safe, Harry."

 _Yeah, sure you do_.

"I don't expect you to tell me where exactly you've been going, but —"

"I've just been going to a friends house," Harry said, tiredly. "It's warded really well, and no one would ever think to look for me there."

"Is this the boy with the dark hair that Severus saw?"

The corner of Harry's eye twitched and his scowl deepened at the mention of Snape. "Yes," Harry said.

"I'm sure you can understand, Harry, that there is a level of reasonable concern, when we learn that you are spending time with someone that none of us know anything about, who seems to have appeared out of no where. How sure can you be that this person is trustworthy?"

"I _do_ know," Harry said, feeling frustrated.

"Can you tell me his name? I know you must have your reasons, but I would like to be cautious and take the time to look into his background."

Harry ground out an annoyed breath and sat forward a bit, trying to clear his mind and focus on _the story_. He and Tom had discussed it enough times - he _should_ be able to do this.

"His name is Thomlyn Moore. That's T-H-O-M-L-Y-N Moore. He's seventeen and lives outside Shrewsbury a ways, not far from Montford Bridge," Harry began to recite in a fast monotone voice. "He lives alone and makes a living brewing potions to stock a local apothecary. His mum was a muggle, and she died right after he was born. His father was a wizard and the house Thomlyn lives in now used to be his but his dad died about a year ago, so now he's on his own again. Thomlyn only moved in with his father, shortly after he tracked him down when he was 15. He'd thought he was an orphan before that, and he was actually homeless for quite a while before that, which is probably why he never got a letter from Hogwarts. I don't know - what else do you want to know?"

"Oh my… Well, how did you meet him?"

Harry fidgeted nervously. "A penpal service," he mumbled.

"Penpal service?" Dumbledore echoed, in a surprised tone.

"An anonymous penpal service," Harry repeated, louder this time. "It's a support group thing. Its so you can talk to someone else about… certain… things… without worrying about being judged. The person you're assigned to is pretty random, and the two people matched together have no way of finding out who the other person is, unless they agree to tell each other. He didn't even know who I was for the first three months we wrote back and forth."

"Well… that is somewhat unexpected," Dumbledore mused. "How long has this been going on?"

Harry sighed. "Just since January."

"So not very long at all. And you honestly feel you have just cause for trusting this boy?"

Harry looked up and actually risked eye contact at that moment. "I do," he said with real conviction. "I trust him."

Dumbledore nodded his head slowly and hummed thoughtfully.

Suddenly a fast knocking sounded against the door. Harry frowned and stood up, going out into the entryway and cautiously pulling the door open.

"Tom _m..lyn_ \- Thomlyn!" Harry exclaimed in surprise, catching himself from saying just 'Tom' as he still honestly feared it was far too obvious of a red-flag, no matter what Tom himself might say.

"Are you alright?" Tom said in a hushed whisper as he leaned in close to Harry's face, looking cautiously around.

"I - yeah, wait, what are you doing here?" Harry hissed, questioningly as panic filled him once again and he glanced back towards the sitting room.

"I felt a huge spike in panic from you earlier," Tom whispered back before leaning a bit back and speaking more loudly. "You forgot your book. I know you said you wanted to read another chapter before bed, so when I saw it laying there on the table, I figured I'd bring it… Oh, hello."

Dumbledore appeared in the archway between the entry hall and the front room, looking at the pair curiously.

Harry looked back at Dumbledore with a sense of horror. Being perfectly honest with himself, Harry still wasn't hugely confident in Tom's use of the fidelius to hide the memory of his youthful appearance. Especially since Tom looked even _more_ like he had during his time at Hogwarts, now that he'd gotten his hair cut and absorbed another horcrux. "Uh, right… Professor, this is… Thomlyn," Harry said nervously as he motioned awkwardly to Tom, keeping a cautious eye on Dumbledore's face. "Thomlyn, this is Professor Dumbledore."

"The Headmaster of your school?" Tom said, sounding surprised before looking back at Harry. "Is something wrong?" he asked, now sounding honestly worried. "Is it a Death Eater thing?" he whispered, and Harry couldn't help but pause and marvel at how natural and believable Tom made it all sound.

"No, it's nothing," Harry said. "He was just… well, he was wondering who _you_ were, actually," Harry pressed on, looking back at Dumbledore. He was standing directly before them now and there was no way he hadn't gotten a perfectly clear look at Tom, and yet there had still been no indication of recognition, at all.

"Me?" Tom echoed, sounding authentically surprised before he looked innocently up at Professor Dumbledore. "I'm not sure what you might want to know, but I can answer any questions you have, if you want?"

"That might help, actually, if you really don't mind," Dumbledore replied, twinkling and smiling at Tom. He waved his hand back towards the sitting room and Tom nodded, following him inside. Harry watched Tom and saw no indication at all in his face or mannerisms that said anything other than eager and honest.

 _He's a really good actor,_ Harry marveled silently. Hopefully Dumbledore wasn't acting too, and the spell to conceal Tom's identity really was working.

Once again, Harry sat on the couch with Dumbledore beside him, but now Tom sat in the armchair diagonal from them, angling himself so he was facing Dumbledore most directly.

"Now, Harry tells me that the pair of you met through a penpal service?" Dumbledore began.

"Yes, the Starling service," Tom replied with a nod of his head.

"Starling?"

"Starling Anonymous Penpal Service. Have you… heard of it?"

"I'm afraid I have not," Dumbledore said, shaking his head.

"Well, it's… I mean, it's a support service of sorts. It…" Tom trailed off and looked cautiously over at Harry, giving him a questioning look. "I don't want to… if you don't want him to know…?"

"I… it's okay," Harry said, uncomfortably.

"You're sure?"

"Yes. I mean… it doesn't really matter… It's fine. So, yes. You can tell him."

Tom kept his eyes trained on Harry for a moment longer, as if checking to make sure it really _was_ okay before turning his gaze back on Dumbledore. "It's a support service for gay teens who are still in the closet. Or bi, as is the case with Harry," he added quickly. "Basically, it gives you the opportunity to speak with someone else who might understand what you're going through, even if you might be in a situation where you're too afraid of rejection, or whatever, from friends or family, to come out to them, yet."

"Oh," Dumbledore said, his eyes opening wide and his bushy white eyebrows raising into his forehead. "Oh," he said again, with a much softer and understanding tone as he looked over at Harry and gave him a warm, reassuring smile.

Harry found himself irrationally angry at that smile, and had to quickly look back down at the floor, for fear that his emotions would betray him and be put on display across his face. The idea that this man, who had secretly done so many dirty, underhanded things to him, could so believably look like _he cared_ … it was enough to make Harry feel sick.

"The service arranges the initial connection and supplies each party with a letterbox — they're sort of like a set of miniature vanishing cabinets. They're sort of brilliant really. You put a letter in the box, close it, and it appears in the other box instantly. Helps keep the whole thing anonymous, since if you were sending a letter through owl post, you'd obviously have to know the name and address of whoever you were sending your letters to," Tom went on explaining.

"It's the only reason I was able to send much of any post at all, last year," Harry said, shrugging. "Umbridge kept trying to intercept my post. She nearly killed Hedwig, you know. I actually had Thomlyn send a few letters out for me, by sending it to him through the box first, and then letting him post it for me."

"That was later in the year though, after he'd told me who he was," Tom added.

"I see," Dumbledore said with a sagely nod. "I believe I have a much better picture of what happened, now. So, Mr. Moore, was it?"

Tom nodded.

"I understand that you never received a letter for Hogwarts? That seems rather strange to me."

"I was homeless at the time that it would have come," Tom said with a shrug. "For all I know, I was sent one, and just managed to miss it, after the owl left it beside whatever box or shelter I was huddled in for the night."

Dumbledore's brow creased with concern. "Homeless?"

"Do you know much about the muggle foster system, Professor Dumbledore?"

"I know a bit…" Dumbledore said.

"My mum died right after giving birth to me, and there was no sign of a father anywhere, so I spent my youth being shuffled through the system. There are lots of different sorts who take in foster kids. I'm sure some of them are decent enough people, I just never met any of those. I was bumped around from one nightmare to the next until I decided I wasn't willing to put up with it anymore and I ran off. No one cared enough to come looking for me."

"That's very unfortunate," Dumbledore said in a soft voice.

Tom shrugged looking both dismissive and uncomfortable.

"I'm curious where you got your education, then?"

"Self taught," Tom said, sitting straighter and raising his head proudly into the air. "I managed to track my father down when I was fifteen thanks to some genealogy spells, and he helped me study a bit as well, but he was already ill at the time, so he wasn't able to do much."

"That's an impressive accomplishment," Dumbledore mused. "Teaching yourself, I mean."

"I passed five OWLs. Took them at the Ministry a year ago," Tom said proudly.

"Impressive, indeed," Dumbledore said, sounding a bit more legitimately impressed this time. "I shall not ask you how it is that you were able to practice with a wand, given that underage use of a wand without supervision is illegal."

"I was never registered by any Ministry run institutions, so no one ever had the opportunity to put a Trace spell on me," Tom said, unapologetically. "It's quite an oversight, honestly, but it benefited me. Truth be told, I was practicing magic on my own for several years before I even _knew_ it was something I wasn't supposed to be allowed to do."

"Ah. Well, I see," Dumbledore nodded. Dumbledore paused for a moment then, looking thoughtful and stroking his beard with one hand. "I wonder, have you considered trying to transfer into Hogwarts? It's never too late, you know, and if you've already passed your OWL exams in five subjects, that's five classes you are qualified to take."

Tom blinked at him with a completely blank expression. Harry had the feeling that this was the closest to an actual, real, reaction from Tom since he'd arrived.

"Go to Hogwarts?" Tom asked in a tone that only barely masked how honestly absurd he found this suggestion.

"Now, I cannot make any guarantees. Obviously you would have to apply as a transfer student and your application would be considered on your merit, but you would certainly have a reasonable chance."

"I… couldn't possibly afford it," Tom responded.

"Oh, that's not something to be concerned over. There is a scholarship fund at Hogwarts, for those who are at a financial disadvantage. Everyone deserves an education."

"Ah. Well… you've certainly given me something to think about," Tom replied in a polite, but obviously off-kilter tone.

Dumbledore smiled at him and then turned his attention back to Harry. "Now, Harry, we really do need to address the problem of your unpredictable disappearances from Privet Drive. I do understand the desire to get out and find a source of comfort in a difficult time, but disappearing without warning caused quite a bit of worry and concern among the Order."

Harry kept his head ducked low, and avoided letting Dumbledore get a good look at his face. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to figure out what to do about this particular problem.

"He's just been coming to my house," Tom interjected. "It's very safe, and isolated. The wards on the property are very strong. My father was a bit… _paranoid_ in his later years."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

Tom shrugged and shifted awkwardly. Harry couldn't help the small curl of his lips as he recognized that Tom was back in his groove. He really was a very convincing actor.

"He came from an old family, with old values. They were not… _fond_ of his tendency to run off with muggles, and were especially disapproving of my mother. It's why he left her, actually. He didn't know she was pregnant at the time, and had thought it was best to cut things off before it went any further. There were threats and he sort of hid away from them all and became something of a recluse. By the time I found him, he was already suffering from Fel Abusus dementia. He was a potioneer, and tended to work with dangerous substances, without taking proper precautions. He had already begun to suffer from hallucinations, and paranoia as associated with the disease."

"I see. I am sorry for your loss, by the way. Very unfortunate to find your father, only to lose him so soon after."

Tom ducked his head and shrugged dismissively, fingering the hem of his sleeve in a very convincing nervous gesture. "At least I got to meet him at all," Tom said, still looking down, uncomfortably.

"Very true," Dumbledore nodded sagely. "I do appreciate that the pair of you took the precaution of wards into consideration during your days away from Privet Drive, although seeing as how Professor Snape saw you in an apothecary, you obviously didn't spend _all_ of your days inside your home," Dumbledore looked at them from over the top of his half-moon spectacles. Harry kept his head down, and Tom just looked back unrepentant.

"But there is another, more pleasing reason for my visiting here today," Dumbledore said then, turning his gaze solely on Harry, who looked up reluctantly, but kept his eyes focused on Dumbledore's chin. "I spoke with Molly and Arthur Weasley and they're both more than happy to have you in their home for the remainder of the summer, should you wish to go."

Harry's eyes widened with surprise and his jaw dropped. "Wait, _now?_ Already?"

"It is nearing a month since term ended, and I feel that it has been sufficiently long for the wards to recognize your continued residence here," Dumbledore said, nodding, "as long as an understanding is in place that you are welcome to return here next summer, until the time you reach the age of seventeen, it should be safe for you to stay with your friends for the remainder of this summer."

Harry gaped at Dumbledore in honest shock, both because this was unexpected, but also because he honestly had no idea what to do in response. He snapped his mouth shut and diverted his eyes when he realized he was staring right into Dumbledore's piercing blue eyes.

"I… I don't know," Harry got out, finally.

"Don't know?" Dumbledore echoed, sounding somewhat surprised.

"Well, I mean… I'd probably love to go stay with them for _part_ of the summer… It's just that, right now, the Dursley's and I have a… um, working arrangement, I guess. They ignore me, I ignore them… and with spending my days at Thomlyn's, things have been… good. So…"

"Ah, yes, however I cannot condone continuing to leave your family's home every day, without any proper protection," Dumbledore said in an apologetic voice.

"And what right do you have to decide that?" Tom spoke up, drawing attention back to him.

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean," Dumbledore said, frowning.

"You are the headmaster of his school, _not_ his legal guardian. You have no legal right to dictate his actions, outside of school. I understand that you are trying to protect him, but that doesn't give you the right to demand that he either make himself a prisoner in his own home, or stay with a family of your choosing, where I can safely assume, you would also insist he stay within the confines of said property. This forced isolation breeds misery. He's less than two weeks away from sixteen years old and the first time he'd ever been to a proper Chinese restaurant was when _I_ took him to one last week. His relatives have kept him isolated his whole youth and now that he's nearly sixteen, his relatives have finally given him the freedom to go out and actually _live_ his life, and _you_ come in and try to keep him locked up!"

Dumbledore blinked at Tom with somewhat wide eyes, but made no arguments, so Tom kept going.

"And yet when he's at the school, during the school year, you pay little attention to his activities, practically encouraging him to put his life in danger at every turn. All while pretending that just _being_ at Hogwarts is somehow supposed to make him safe, despite _years_ of evidence to the contrary. If he's 'safe' at your school, then he's _safe_ going to my home. I would argue that his time spent with me is considerably _safer_ than any time he has spent within the walls of your school.

"A Death Eater for a potions master, the bloody _Dark Lord_ on the back of a teacher's head for his whole first year, and _apparently_ none of you even noticed. That monster Umbridge and her detention torture devices this last year, a Death Eater under Polyjuice for a Defense Professor his whole fourth year, a _werewolf_ as a professor for his third… Great Merlin, don't get me started on all the madness he's had to endure at that school! If I honestly did consider your offer and go to Hogwarts in the fall, my primary motivation would be to _protect him_ , as he obviously doesn't have help from the administration! You _abandoned_ your school this year, leaving him and all the rest of the students at the mercy of a power hungry, paranoid, sociopathic _mad woman!_ And you have the gall to come here and insist that allowing him the freedom to leave his home, during the summer, and visit a friend, puts him in danger!? I - I don't even have the words! I'm stunned and, quite frankly, _monstrously offended._ I'm offended _for_ Harry."

"My, what an impassioned argument," Dumbledore said in a mildly stunned, mildly impressed tone. He even smiled slightly, which only made Harry's stomach turn.

Was that real? Were any of Dumbledore's reactions real? Did it actually please him to think that Tom cared so much for Harry that he'd defend him like this? Or was he just a really convincing actor… like Tom?

"I see your point, Mr. Moore, and I will not argue against it. It is true that I have failed Harry, many times in the past, but _this year, especially_. We do what we do because we care about him. We all just want to keep him safe, but mistakes have been made. I think that you and I can agree that, in the end, what we want most for Harry is for him to be safe."

"I want him to be _happy_ ," Tom cut in, giving Dumbledore a hard stare.

Dumbledore paused, considering Tom for a moment before nodding his head. "Yes. Happy. A worthy aspiration."

"What's the point of living, if you spend your whole life, miserable, locked inside a gilded cage?" Tom asked.

Dumbledore gave Tom a slow, measured look and nodded his head once again. "Another valid point. I would like to think that Harry's time at Hogwarts has not been miserable, though."

Tom arched a single mildly disbelieving eyebrow back, but said nothing else. A silence hung in the air for several uncomfortable beats after that, before Harry felt the need to break it.

"I want to stay here," he said with a firm sense of finality.

Dumbledore turned and looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You're sure?"

"For another week at least; yes. But I'll be visiting Thomlyn during the days. He's got an apparition license, and he apparates us everywhere. There's no way someone could track us from here, and as long as you don't tell anyone, there's no chance of anyone knowing where he lives and tracking me there. In a week or two, if they still want me, I'd love to go stay with the Weasley's… but only if it's alright to still visit Thomlyn, or for him to visit me there… if they're okay with it… If not… well, I'll just stay here all all summer."

Dumbledore observed Harry for a silent moment before nodding his head. "If that is your choice."

"It is," Harry said with a firm tone.

"Well, in that case, I suppose there is really only one matter left to attend to, before I should go."

Harry squared his shoulders, wondering what was coming at him now.

"Sirius' will was read," Dumbledore began gently, and Harry felt as if something quite sharp had just been jabbed through his chest. "He left everything to you. Grimmauld Place, included."

Harry's jaw floundered, lost for words.

"The problem is that it is possible that Walburga or Orion Black could have put measures into place to prevent someone that they would not approve of, from gaining ownership over their home and belongings. Until ownership has been adequately proven, we have decided that continuing to use Grimmauld Place as the Order Headquarters, would be unwise, as the most likely inheritors besides you, would be —"

"Bellatrix or the Malfoys," Harry ground out, absolutely _hating_ the idea of Bellatrix having any chance of gaining ownership over Sirius' house, after _she_ was the one who _killed him_. Plus, Harry had to make sure that nothing happened to Sirius' stuff while he was… away. If all things went according to plan, Sirius would be back in a week to reclaim his things.

"Precisely. Now there is one guaranteed way to test to see if you have gained ownership of the Black estate," Dumbledore continued, claiming Harry's full attention.

"How?"

"If you now own Grimmauld Place, you also now own _Kreacher_. If you call him and he comes, and responds to your orders, then it will confirm that Sirius' will was magically recognized."

The thought of being tied to that little monster was enough to make Harry taste sick in the back of his throat. He made a disgusted face but then heaved a frustrated breath. "Okay, fine. So I just… call him?"

Dumbledore nodded.

" _Kreacher!"_ Harry called out. An instant later, a _pop_ filled the room, and Kreacher appeared there, in front of Harry, and _immediately_ began to throw a tremendous tantrum. After some struggle and some yelling, Harry managed to order Kreacher to shut up — which he did, instantly — and then to leave a moment later. Peace once again prevailed over the small sitting room and Harry heaved a sigh of relief. "Alright, so that means it's mine, right?"

"Correct," Dumbledore confirmed.

"So is that it?" Tom asked, drawing a considering gaze from Dumbledore for a moment before he nodded and stood up.

"Yes, I believe that is enough for today. Thank you for entertaining my questions, boys."

"Uh, yeah," Harry said, standing up awkwardly as well, followed instantly by Tom, who came to stand beside Harry, almost protectively. "Um, thanks for… listening… to what I wanted, I mean. I appreciate that."

"Of course, Harry. Do enjoy your summer. It was nice to meet you, Mr. Moore."

"The pleasure's all mine, sir," Tom said formally with a curt bow of his head.

The pair walked Dumbledore to the front door, where he gave them a final farewell, and ducked out the door, disappearing down the street.

As soon as the front door was closed again, Tom heaved a deep breath and Harry let himself fall back against the wall beside him.

"Merlin, that was stressful," Harry said.

"I didn't expect the man to _come himself_ ," Tom grumbled. "Has he ever visited you during the summer before?" Tom pulled out his wand and began to wave it about.

"No! Never! What are you doing?"

"Checking for any eavesdropping spells. None. Good. The fact that he's never paid you a visit of this nature before only makes it that much more unusual. I suppose the thing about Black's will gave him some degree of legitimate excuse… Still… that was not something I'd expected him to do."

"I'm just glad it's over," Harry sighed. "And it sounds like we don't have to hide from the Order anymore."

Tom looked over and smirked at Harry, "Does that mean you don't want me just _popping_ into your bedroom every morning? I was starting to enjoy it."

Harry felt his face go hot. "Shut it!"

Tom laughed, and it was a beautiful sound.

His mirth melted away with a sigh before he reached up and ran a hand through his newly shortened hair. "Well, I suppose I'd best be heading out." Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a pocket watch. His eyes widened and he quickly stuffed it back in. "I'd best be leaving _now_. The next step of the potion is in less than five minutes."

"Oh, geez! Go!"

Tom grinned at him, and his hand reached out and hovered in mid-air between them for a moment, as if he started to move and suddenly realized he had no idea what he was doing. He lowered it awkwardly, nodded instead, and opened the door.

"Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight Tom."

— —


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Tom came to the front door the next morning. Petunia was clearly less than pleased with his appearance, but made no objections when Harry headed out the door with him, calling back that he'd get lunch and dinner on his own and be back by dark.

Tom pointed out where the Order member was, and Harry waved in their direction, even though he couldn't see any indication of them. The pair then made their way to the park and apparated from the spot behind the trees that they'd used in the beginning. Harry supposed it was actually _less_ convenient than what they'd been doing before, with Tom apparating them directly from Harry's room, but he also found that he liked the brief walk, and he especially liked the idea that he wasn't _sneaking around_. The Order knew he was leaving, and there was really nothing they could do about it.

The potion was still gently bubbling away when they got to Tom's cottage, and it wouldn't need any tending until later that afternoon. Tom started Harry off with a few more of those mental/magical exercises from the previous day, but finally told Harry that they would start casting some actual spells.

"We'll start small," Tom began to explain, having just told Harry to stand up and bring his wand. Harry had been sitting cross-legged on a large squashy pillow on the floor that Tom had conjured for him, while he did the mental exercises from the day before.

"Now, I'm not entirely comfortable doing this _in here_ ," Tom went on, "The last thing we want is for something to go wrong and the potion be disturbed, so we'll take this elsewhere."

Harry followed Tom out of the work room and down the narrow hallway to the sitting room. On the opposite side of the room, furthest from the front door, a narrow door had been crammed between a large support beam and the adjacent wall. It looked out of place and Harry wondered at the fact that he hadn't actually noticed it before.

"Was this here before?" Harry asked, frowning at the door as Tom walked straight to it and pulled the door open.

"No, it was not," Tom said, grinning back at Harry. "I put it in last night, actually."

"You put in… a room?"

"I put in a basement," Tom corrected and Harry saw that the door had opened up to a narrow staircase that led down. "The cottage itself was never modified much from it's original state. I simply warded the property and paid it little more attention. It wasn't entirely intended to be used as a long-term residence either, but it's honestly been sufficient for my needs. However, it is quite _small,_ and aside from the anti-apparition field, the primary wards do not extend beyond the building itself. That's why it was necessary to put in an additional space _within_ the wards."

"Uh… is that safe? Putting in a basement _under_ an existing house, I mean," Harry asked as he cautiously followed Tom through the door and down the short stairwell.

"It's actually an expanded space, so by all technical measures, there is still nothing but solid dirt and rock if you were to break through the floor and dig straight down."

"Wait, I don't get that. What?"

"There was a small amount of space behind this wall that was still contained within the wards of the house. I took that space and made it larger," Tom said in a simple, explanatory voice.

"Oh. You made the space bigger," Harry echoed, rolling his eyes. "So it's actually like those wizarding tents?"

"Wizarding tents?"

"Yeah, well, at the Quidditch World Cup, we camped out for the night in a tent. From the outside it looked tiny, but inside it was huge."

"It's the same magic, yes," Tom confirmed as he rounded a narrow corner at the base of the short stairwell and came out into a large open room. "It's fairly barren right now, I'm afraid," Tom apologized. "As I said, I only just did it last night, so I haven't done much with it yet."

"Wow," Harry said as he came out into the room and looked around. The room felt quite large, but Harry realized part of that was the high ceiling, which none of the rest of the house with it's old style design, featured. The room was probably a good twelve feet by twelve feet, and the walls were similar to the outer walls of the house, made of different sized rounded stones, set in mortar. The floor was smoothed slate grey with a slight sheen to it and the ceiling was old wood with beams stretching across length of the room. There were no windows and no traditional light fixtures, but the room was well illuminated thanks to a series of glowing balls of light that trailed along the tops of all the walls.

"Eh, it needs a lot of work," Tom said, sounding considerably less impressed than Harry. "I may still make the walls smooth, rather than imitating the house's outer walls. A layer of sheetrock and some paint or perhaps wall paper. Some color might help the room some…"

"I think it's brilliant that you can do this _at all_."

Tom chuckled and shook his head. "You really have been isolated. There's so much about our world that you're still unfamiliar with."

Harry scowled and crossed his arms over his chest. "Not like I had much say in that," Harry grumbled defensively.

"No, you did not," Tom agreed gently. He turned to the room at large and waved his wand conjuring a small wooden block from nothing, several feet in front of Harry. "As I said, we'll start small. Levitate this three feet into the air and hold it there until I say otherwise."

"Levitate? Seriously?" Harry asked, incredulously. That was a _first year_ spell."

"Yes, seriously. Try it before you criticize my methods."

"Fine, fine," Harry said, extending his wand towards the block.

"Wingardium Leviosa," Harry said in a bored tone as he swished his wand and gave it a nice flick at the end. The wood block shot into the air and lodged itself in the ceiling. Harry gaped at it. "What the -!?"

Tom began to chuckle and Harry turned to glare at him. "You knew that was going to happen, didn't you?"

"I had my suspicions. Mind you, I've never removed magical blocks from someone with as much magical potential as _myself_ before, as there has never _been_ such a person, but I _have_ had two instances of removing magical blocks that had been placed on wizards who had been incarcerated for upwards of ten years, and it tends to take them a while to readjust to their actual magical potential. In your case, you've been casting magic for five years now believing that the reserves available to you were your _full_ reserves. Now that your reserves are monumentally larger, the amount of draw you used on your magic before, will call forth a considerably more substantial amount of power. You will have to practice to relearn how to cast."

"This is insane!" Harry said and jumped as the block managed to dislodge itself from the wooden ceiling and fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Harry stared at it, and for the first time, it really started to register in his mind. "I'm… going to have as much magical power as… _you?_ Like, seriously?" Harry turned back and gaped at Tom in utter disbelief.

"You _are_ me."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, not _exactly_ though. And… I mean, how does that even work? One soul, two people? Where does our magic come from? Is our magic like… part of the soul? Does that mean that your magic is split in half, and half of it's in me… but that doesn't work either! When the piece that's _me_ broke off, it was like less than a percent of a soul, but it _grew_ , and… became me, I guess. So if we were both drawing from the same well of magic, _you_ would have gotten weaker for whatever portion of the magic that _I_ got, but that's not how it worked… it just doesn't make sense!"

Tom shook his head and shrugged. "I'll be honest with you Harry - it's not a subject that's entirely understood. Our situation is unprecedented. But I will say that I don't believe that you and I are drawing from the same well of magic. We each have our own individual magical cores which are part of our physical bodies, as well as our _soul_. When I was bodiless, my magical resources were monstrously diminished. The body is necessary in the containment and growth of our magic. That much, I know for a fact.

"I think, and mind you this is mostly conjecture but I have done a _great_ deal of study into the subject — but I believe that our soul provides a template for our magical core. Our soul tells our bodies how to produce and contain our magic, but our bodies still play a significant role in the creation, storage and maintenance of those magical wells. Our soul, being identical, have the same template for how much magic we can have and what our magical signature should be. So even though your body and my body are biologically different, they still manage to produce the same magical signature because they're both using the same set of instructions. I've believed something along those lines for some time now, as my magical signature is the same in this body, as it was in my body prior to it being destroyed in '81, but my magical signature and mass was significantly smaller when I had no body at all. And while I managed to create a very well matched body for myself, it is not _the same_ body that I had. That was not possible, as there were _no_ blood or hair or similar samples from _my_ old body. And yet, my magical core is the same now as it was before."

"Okay… I think I get what you're saying," Harry said, nodding slowly. "My magical signature… is the same as yours," he said in a slow tone. "This is just insane," he whispered in disbelief.

Tom was the most powerful wizard in the world, with the only other possible contender being Dumbledore. That was a reality that Harry had understood for a number of years now. The idea that _he_ could ever have even the faintest chance of standing up to the most powerful dark wizard in recorded history had always seemed ludicrous and totally impossible.

And yet…

"Insane," Harry said again, shaking his head in a minor state of shock.

Harry jumped as he felt Tom's hand come and rest on his shoulder, pulling Harry's gaze across to his dark eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't —" Tom started, pulling his hand back, but Harry's hand shot up and grabbed it. They froze like that, and Harry wondered why'd he'd even done that.

"No… it's okay," Harry said, awkwardly letting Tom's hand go and lowering his own. "I was just sort of… lost in my thoughts."

Tom's hand hovered for several moments in mid-air where Harry's hand had stopped him, then finally, he cautiously returned it to Harry's shoulder. Harry felt his eyes flutter shut at the direct contact. He'd never really liked people touching him, and it had taken him quite a while to get used to Ron or Hermione showing him any degree of physical affection or reassurances. Yet one small gesture like this from Tom, and Harry felt some of his tension melt away. Maybe it was the gentle buzzing he felt whenever he was really close, or when Harry was near a horcrux. Something to do with their soul's connection. Maybe it was just because he'd come to feel so comfortable around the other wizard.

"I can see that this isn't something that had fully registered with you," Tom said gently. "If you want to… talk about it, or anything. I'm here."

Harry met his eyes again and just stared for a moment as he found he couldn't find any words to adequately say how he felt. How _confused_ and disbelieving he was of the enormity of all of this.

"It's a lot, I know," Tom said softly before chuckling lightly and looking down. "I've laid awake at night several times lately just trying to process it, myself. What it _means_ … two people with the same soul… the idea of someone else out there _sharing_ my power. There was a time when that would have bothered me a _tremendous_ amount. The prospect of _allowing_ someone else to match me in power… I certainly wouldn't have been eager to remove those blocks from your core, I can tell you that."

"Then why did you?" Harry asked.

"Because it's your magic. My magic is my magic. Your magic is your magic. No wizard should have his magic taken from him, in whole or in part. And what Dumbledore did in placing those blocks on you was just as much an affront against myself as against you, in a way. If he had dared to do something like that to _me_ … The extent of my anger would have been explosive enough to demolish a small village. Probably quite a lot more at the peak of my insanity. And…" he hesitated and Harry felt Tom's fingers brushing lightly over his shoulder and a small shiver made it's way down his spine. "Honestly, I find myself growing tremendously fond of you," Tom said softly, looking down. "The idea of him doing that to you… I couldn't possibly leave it as it was."

"Oh," Harry said in a small voice. Tom's eyes met his again and they stared at each other for several silent beats. Harry found himself seeing tiny details about Tom's features he'd never really noted before. His eyes were dark, but they weren't brown. They were almost a little greyish-hazel with tiny flecks of gold that only seemed visible with the light hit them just right.

Tom's hand came up and he brushed the backs of his knuckles against the side of Harry's face, tucking a stray hair behind Harry's ear. Harry's eyes fluttered shut and his head tilted towards Tom's hand, unconsciously. A sigh slipped past his lips and heat filled his chest. He wanted…

And then it was gone. Tom lowered his hand, took a step back and coughed while looking uncomfortably at the ground. Harry blinked several times and took in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart.

"Uhm… yes," Tom said and turned his gaze on the wooden cube. "Now, remember those exercises?"

"Huh?" Harry blinked at him, feeling disoriented.

"The exercises where I had you visualize and sense your magic, inside your body?"

"Oh, yeah! Right," Harry said, trying to sort himself out and focus again.

"Right. Well, now we need to apply that while you cast an actual spell. I want you to start to cast the spell again, the way you normally would, Aim your wand at the block and begin to cast the spell, but _don't follow through._ Focus on the build-up of your magic. Picture it. The size and strength of it. I want you to _see_ your magic in your mind. Then I want you to start again, but this time, focus on that size and make it _smaller_. Don't pull as much forth - pull _just_ a bit and then stop and cast the spell. It'll probably feel like you're casting prematurely, but I want you to try anyway. We'll do this a few times until you get the right amount to cast the spell and hold the block in mid-air. Alright?"

"Alright," Harry agreed, still feeling slightly off balance, but he turned his attention back on the block and tried to push everything else out of his mind. He didn't have the time or mental resources, to let himself worry about all of that other stuff. Neither the ambiguous notion that he actually had the potential of being one of the most powerful wizards _in the world_ , nor the memories of _that feeling_ that had both calmed his senses and set them on fire during that brief, strange, encounter with Tom, were as important as getting his magic under control. Well, maybe they _were_ more important, but they could wait. This was much easier to deal with _now_ , so this was what he was going to do.

— —

"How many days has it been?" Sirius asked Harry that night.

"Since the last time I called you?" Harry asked for clarification.

"Yeah," Sirius confirmed with a nod.

"Uhm… four or five?"

Sirius blinked at him. "That many?"

"Well… I mean, we still don't know what the _price_ is for using the ring, and Tom did say that he thought it was a price that _you_ had to pay, more than me, so I don't want to over use it."

"Oh. Alright, fine," Sirius said with a sigh and a shrug.

"So you don't really have a perception of time, wherever you are?" Harry asked. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed while Sirius floated a few feet away.

"Time is… different," Sirius replied hesitantly.

"Yeah… I suppose it would be. So we're making good progress on the resurrection potion!"

"Really?" Sirius replied sounding a mixture between surprised and dubious. "Do you… really think it'll work?"

Harry shrugged, "If anyone can do it, Tom can."

"Hmm," Sirius responded in a rather uncertain tone.

"So Dumbledore paid me a visit last night," Harry said, clearly less than pleased with this.

"Oh?" Sirius asked, his interest piquing.

"Yeah. Basically, the Order noticed that I'd been leaving Privet Drive with Tom and got worried."

"As they should," Sirius grumbled.

Harry gave him a bit of a stink-eye but kept going. "He basically told me that I should either stay locked in my room, _for my own safety_ , or I should go stay with the Weasley's."

"And you're still in your room… because?"

Harry huffed out an annoyed breath. "If I went to the Weasley's, I couldn't go to Tom's and I couldn't help with the potion. It's got less than a week before the final stage and then we bring you back. There's no way I'm missing that."

"We don't even know for sure if it's going to work. You've got to prepare yourself for the fact that it might not work," Sirius said, warningly.

"I _know_ it might not work," Harry growled in frustration, "but Tom honestly seems to think it will, or at least he hasn't given me any indication that it _won't_. And he's already done this sort of thing before."

"Creating an army in Infiri is not the same as legitimately resurrecting a dead person," Sirius said.

"I wasn't talking about the infiri," Harry said with a slight glare. "I'm talking about him resurrecting _himself_."

"Yeah, but he wasn't really dead, was he?"

"His soul was tethered to this world, so he couldn't leave," Harry confirmed. "But he says that when the resurrection stone is in use, it's almost temporarily acting the way a horcrux does. It's like a chain that anchors the chosen soul to the world of the living. Apparently, when you summon someone's soul with this thing, it catches hold of them and won't release them until the person using the ring allows it. Theoretically, you could trap a soul in the world of the living, using this thing. There's this story about his ancestor who made the thing, using it to bring his dead wife's soul back and trying to keep her there with him always. But she was miserable and just wanted to be allowed to die, and it drove him mad, so he eventually killed himself."

"Pleasant story," Sirius said sarcastically.

"The point is that, while using the ring to bring your soul here, we've basically got you in the same position that _Tom_ was in before his resurrection. Except for not having you in a nasty little homunculus body… but he says that's an unnecessary intermediary step, so we don't need to do that. He had to do it because there were parts of the ritual preparation that Wormtail wasn't skilled enough to do on his own. Anyway, securing the correct soul is supposed to be the hardest part about bringing someone back from the dead, right? Well, like we said before, that part is already solved, so we're fine."

"Okay, okay," Sirius said with a sigh.

"There was another thing Dumbledore mentioned," Harry said.

"Oh yeah? What?"

"He said that your will was read," Harry looked down in his lap where he was playing with a stray thread from his thin blanket. "He said you left everything to me. He had me test it out by summoning Kreacher, to make sure it had worked and that it hadn't all gone to someone else, like Bellatrix or Narcissa Malfoy."

"If it went to someone else, it would have gone to Andromeda first, I checked," Sirius said with a sigh. "But it didn't, so that's good. Nice to know it worked."

"Andromeda?"

"Tonk's mum."

"Tonk's mum?" Harry echoed, feeling confused. "Why would she have gotten it?"

"Well, it's true that Bellatrix is the oldest, so normally any magical inheritance would go to her, but she has no children and is also barren so there isn't even the future possibility of children, so she would be skipped over. Andromeda is the second oldest and already has a child. And while Cygnus may have written her out of his own will, he never actually _disowned_ her, so she's still the default for the magic to choose if it were to ignore my own directive."

"Wait, I'm still confused. Oldest of the three? What—?"

"My cousins. Andromeda Tonks, née Black, Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black, and Narcissa Malfoy, née Black."

"Tonk's mum is your cousin? So wait - Tonks is related to you!?"

Sirius laughed. "Didn't you know? I could have sworn I told you last summer."

"No! Or, at least, it didn't stick if you did." Harry paused, suddenly remembering something else, "Hey! For that matter, why didn't you ever tell me that you and my dad were cousins!?"

Sirius blinked at him. "I didn't?"

"No! No one ever mentioned _anything_ like that to me before!"

"Huh. Oh well, now you know."

Harry ground out a frustrated noise before huffing out a breath and sighing. "Merlin, I really need to take a better look at that big tapestry in the drawing room you tried to show me last summer."

Sirius hummed. "Yeah, it's all on there. James is my um… second-cousin-once-removed? Yeah, second-cousin-once-removed. My Great-Great Grandfather is his Great-Grandfather. There's an offset because Charlus and Dorea had a really hard time having kids. They were apparently getting on in years before they finally managed to have James."

Harry froze as an awful notion crawled its way up the back of his mind. He cringed. "So… If your my dad's cousin, that means Narcissa Malfoy is _too_ … which means I'm… _related to Draco Malfoy?"_

"Yeah, that'd make you two, third-cousins-twice-removed, I think. Or wait… third-cousins-once-removed? Yeah, just once."

Harry grimaced. "Ugh… how awful."

"Third cousins, once removed, is… practically not related at _all_ , Harry," Sirius said, laughing. "You're probably about as equally related to the Weasley's as you are to the Malfoys. Longbottoms too, for that matter."

Harry gaped at the ghostly figure of his godfather. "Wait, _whut?"_

"Let's see _…_ Septimus Weasley married Cedrella Black, who's father was Arcturus Black, whose father was Phineas Nigellus Black. Making Phineas Nigellus Ron's great-great-great grandfather. I think. He's your Great-Great Grandfather. That's one less great than Ron, making you guys 'once removed'. Now for a great-great-great grandfather being shared, I think that makes you third cousins. So third cousins, once removed. Same as Draco. Longbottoms as well, I would guess. We all share Phineaus Nigellus as an ancestor. Ron and that Neville kid would share a great-great grandfather, so they're actually more closely related to each other than to you."

"I'm cousins with Ron," Harry muttered in a stunned voice. " _And Neville."_

Sirius laughed again and shook his head. "If you wanna see it that way, pup, then good on you. But if you're cousins with Ron, that means you're _also_ cousins with Malfoy."

Harry made a face again. "Yeah… maybe I'll just stick with being friends. Cousins isn't all that important. How weird is it that I ended up sharing a dorm room with two distant cousins?"

"Not that odd. The wizarding community has been a pretty small and insular one for a long while, Harry. And a lot of the old families intermixed at various points. They all used to have much bigger families than they do these days. Having four, five, and six children was pretty common. These days the old families are lucky to manage one heir. Too much inbreeding if you ask me. _And I should know!"_ Sirius said with a laugh.

"So is there a chance I'm related to even _more_ of my classmates?"

"Oh, sure," Sirius said with a firm nod. "Let's see… I know that you've got a Macmillan in your year, right? And a Crabbe, right?"

"Oh god, please don't tell me I'm related to Crabbe!"

Sirius barked out a laugh, but muffled it when he saw Harry's slightly panicked eyes dart towards the door. His gaze darkened. "Are your relatives giving you trouble?"

"Nah, not really," Harry said shaking his head. "Old habits die hard. The Order gave them a scare when they picked me up from the train station, and Tom reinforced it the first time he visited and a couple brief encounters since then. They've pretty much left me alone lately. Still doesn't mean I'm not eager to get the hell away from them. As soon as you're back, I'm out of here. Either I'll go to the Weasley's or you and I can go to Grimmauld Place together."

Sirius made a bit of a face before sighing and shrugging. "Yeah, back to Grimmauld Place."

"Oh, hey! I can't believe I nearly forgot, but Tom discovered magical blockers on me and brewed up this nasty potion to dissolve them. We've been doing magical exercises down in his basement, and it's _crazy_."

"Wait, _magical blocks? Inhibitors?!_ On _you?_ "

"Yeah, Tom figures Dumbledore probably put them on me when I was really young. Remember when I blasted off all those dementorrr…. right you were unconscious. Well, there's been a few instances where I managed some bit of magic that was _way_ beyond me, but things were dire, you know? Tom says those were times where I managed to surpass the blocks and draw into my normal magic, despite them."

Harry paused as he realized Sirius had a rather homicidal look in his eyes. "Uh… Sirius?"

"I just can't… I was _such_ a fool!" Sirius hissed. "I _trusted_ …"

Harry heaved out a disgruntled noise. "Yeah, believe me, I've been having that same conversation with myself for weeks now. I nearly blew my top a couple times when he was here last night. He just makes it so _believable_ that he cares. But how can he care about people and still be okay with using them and letting them die or suffer?"

Sirius growled out in frustration, and it was obvious that he wished he could hit something or at least _pace_ , but all he could do was float there. Finally he just huffed out a heavy breath and sighed.

"I can see why someone would go crazy being held like this for a long time," he said finally. "You can't really do _anything_."

"Do you want me to let you go?" Harry asked, worried.

"No, no. Not yet. I'm fine, Harry. I just feel… powerless. I can't protect you or help you… the only person left who _can_ do any of that is the last damn person in the world I would trust to do either of those things."

"Would you trust him to protect himself?"

"Er, yes?" Sirius asked as much as answered.

"Then he'll protect me. You know, I've _known_ about this shared soul thing for a while now, but I think yesterday was the first time it really sank in that he and I are… literally from the same stuff."

"I don't follow you," Sirius said, looking at him dubiously.

"With the magic blocks removed, I have full access to my magic. _My real magic_. No limitations or anything. And… it's _insane!_ I… my god, Sirius, I'm _really_ powerful. It's kind of terrifying. I mean, I don't know even a fraction of the spells that Tom knows, so I still don't compare at all, but _power wise_ … we're the same! If I actually knew some of those insanely advanced spells he can pull off that no one else can - _I_ would be able to do it. That just blows my mind!"

Sirius' brow creased with concern and he floated closer to Harry and seemed to move about awkwardly for a moment before he seemed to float lower and get himself into the position of someone sitting, next to Harry on the bed.

"Okay, explain this better to me."

Harry went on to explain what Tom had said to him earlier about their magical cores and how it was that they could be identical. Sirius 'sat' there and listened the whole time, nodding gently from time-to-time.

"Hmmm…" Sirius hummed after Harry had finished. "I suppose it does make sense, in that way, that the two of you _would_ have the same magical potential. If the two of you really do share a soul…"

"There's not really any 'if' about that, Sirius."

"It's not like there's _evidence_ of it," Sirius argued.

"Uh… actually, there really is. Plus, is it, or is it not true, that those Welsh Sidhe can't lie?" Harry asked, in a frustrated tone.

Sirius sighed. "It's true," he said grudgingly.

"So if she said that we've got the same soul, doesn't that pretty much guarantee that it's true?"

Sirius grumbled and pouted.

"I wish you could believe that he really is different," Harry said in a small, frustrated voice.

"Oh Harry… I get it, pup. _I do_. You need to feel like he's got a real chance of redemption, because it means that _your_ soul isn't inherently evil, just… whatever insanity that he did to himself, _made_ him evil. So _you_ aren't destined to go crazy and evil, that happened to him because of outside factors he did to himself. I _do_ understand."

Harry looked down into his lap and shrugged. He hadn't exactly thought it through like that, but he realized that maybe Sirius had a point. Part of him was desperate for any evidence that Harry himself wasn't destined to turn out just like Voldemort had. Evidence that having the same soul didn't mean he _had_ to become crazy and homicidal.

"It's just… I can't let go of what he _was_ … what he _did_. Not like you apparently have," Sirius pressed on.

"He's not the same person," Harry said, looking up at Sirius with a beseeching look. "He's totally different, and he really does feel remorse for all that he did. It tears him up inside."

"If he feels so bad about it, why not turn himself in and face punishment for it?" Sirius asked.

Harry let out a small humorless laugh. "You do realize that if the Ministry got their hands on him, at best they'd give him the death penalty, which wouldn't actually work, because of his horcruxes, and at worst, they'd sentence him to a Kiss from a dementor… which probably wouldn't work either. In either case, if it _did_ work, _I_ would probably die too."

Sirius' eyes widened and he nearly flinched back. "Oh…"

"Yeah. _Oh._ "

The room was awkwardly silent for a moment and Harry went back to picking at a loose thread on his blanket.

"So… do you guys have a plan for… I don't know… Dumbledore? The future? What's going on with the Death Eaters? The war?" Sirius asked.

"Uhm… well, honestly the future isn't a topic that's come up much," Harry admitted. "But as for the Death Eaters, he sent out orders to the ones in undercover positions or whatever, to basically enter a holding pattern and not to take any action. He can't exactly call them to him and hand out orders, or officially disband them or something. None of them would believe he was really Voldemort. Not anymore. So I don't think he's really sure what to do about the whole Death Eater thing."

"He's not sure what to do about the Death Eaters," Sirius echoed in an incredulous monotone.

"Honestly, I think he's just kind of avoiding it right now," Harry said. "He's using this resurrection potion and my magic practice to distract himself. But I can tell it's kind of stressing him out. Whenever the subject of the future or the Death Eaters does come up he gets visibly uncomfortable."

Sirius snorted and rolled his eyes, earning him another small glare from Harry.

"Okay, so let's make some plans," Sirius said, shifting the conversation in a new direction. "Let's say that this whole thing actually works out and I do come back to life, and nothing is weird or _wrong_ with me; what excuse are we going to use to explain away my return? I can just about guarantee that telling Remus or… well _anyone_ , that you resurrected me through dark magic is _not_ going to go over well."

"Uh… I don't know," Harry admitted. "I hadn't really thought that far ahead."

Sirius chuckled and sighed.

"Can't we just… say you walked back through the other end of the veil, and everyone was gone and the room was empty and you were just really confused. Then you come to discover that it's been, like a month, and everyone thinks you're dead? But for you, it was like, you fell in, and fell right back out the other side, with no time passage at all?"

"I'm not sure anyone will believe that's how that veil works, Harry," Sirius said.

"Does anyone really have any idea how that thing _actually_ works?" Harry asked. "At least, anyone in the Order? I mean, maybe some Unspeakables might have some ideas, but that stuff is all secret, right?"

"Well, I suppose…"

"For all we know, it isn't a gateway to instant death, but something totally different. A doorway to another dimension, or a… um… like a door that folds time, so you walk in at one moment, and walk out at a totally different time. Or you fell in and were stuck in a holding pattern, but death rejected you and spat you back out - it just took a month to do it. It's not like anyone from the Order can claim that whatever we say, can't be possible. None of us actually understand what that veil _is_."

"Okay, okay… yeah, I suppose that could work. So, I should just make believe that I fell through the veil after Bellatrix tripped me up, and fell back out, an instant later, but a whole month had passed?"

"Yeah, sounds like a decent enough story to me," Harry said with a shrug.

"So how am I supposed to have gotten out of the Department of Mysteries?" Sirius asked, arching a questioning brow.

"Um… well… we can say that it was the middle of the night when you fell out, just like when you fell in, so security was low. There wasn't anyone there when I went in before."

"And you don't think they might have upped security since then?"

Harry scowled before huffing out a breath and shrugging. "Just say your impressive skills were to thank for your nimble escape."

Sirius laughed. "Alright, Harry. I'll think it through and make it work. Of course that means that when I do make my miraculous appearance, you're going to have to act surprised."

"Great, yeah, that's fine," Harry said before stretching and yawning.

"It's getting pretty late," Sirius observed.

"I'm fine," Harry said, mid-yawn.

"Nah, you get some sleep. I'm feeling a bit thin, anyway."

Harry frowned. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, Harry, I'm fine. Get some sleep."

Harry eyed Sirius for a moment longer before nodding. "Yeah, fine. I'll call you up again in a few days and let you know how things are going."

"Alright. Goodnight, Harry."

"Goodnight."

Harry turned the ring and mentally 'released' Sirius, allowing him to fade from view.

— —


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"Expelliarmus!" Harry called out, sending a bolt of red light from the tip of his wand, hitting square in the center of a wooden dummy, halfway across the room. The dummy shook wildly, it's dangling arms flailing about, and a wooden stick that had been placed in it's 'hand' was sent sailing through the air and clattering to the floor.

Harry let out a breath and looked over at Tom, who was sitting at a desk he'd added to the new training room.

Tom glanced up, reached out and made a lazy movement with his hand, sending the stick on the floor back into the dummy's hand. "Again," he said before going back to the notes and books around him.

Harry let out a mildly annoyed groan and disarmed the dummy again. "How many times am I going to do this? I'm not blowing the stick up anymore. I think I've got it down now."

"Think of it as training your muscle memory," Tom replied, not taking his eyes off the book to his left while his right hand scratched down several more notes.

"Muscle memory?

"Yes. The more often you perform an action, the more ingrained the action becomes in your 'muscle memory' Or 'magical' memory, in this case. Do it enough and it becomes second nature. It becomes an involuntary action. Your magic _learned_ how to cast this spell already, and _that_ draw became your 'muscle memory' It's also now _wrong_. You need to retrain it. The more you do it, the more likely it is to stick." Tom set his quill down, made another absent wave of his hand sending the stick back into the dummy's hand. "Again."

Harry sighed, shook his head, and went back to his practice.

Harry caught the stick and returned it himself for the next few castings, since Tom seemed particularly engrossed after that. After the tenth time he'd disarmed the dummy without incident he turned and walked over to stand behind Tom.

"So what are you doing, anyway?" Harry asked.

"I'm working on a spell."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Could you vague that up for me a bit?"

Tom looked up at Harry out of the corner of his eye with a slightly amused smirk. "I'm creating a new spell."

"And what is it that this spell is _for_?"

"Have you covered human transfiguration yet, in school?"

"Uh… not too much, no. That's NEWT level stuff, I think. I actually don't really know much about it."

"Basically, so long as you're actually good enough to do it, using human transfiguration, you can completely alter any aspect of a person's appearance. When done _correctly_ , human transfigurations are reversed with a simple _finite,_ and extra steps must be taken to protect against someone else undoing your transformation at an inopportune moment.Of course, if you're not skilled enough to properly perform a human transfiguration, mistakes can be made, making it difficult to undo a transfiguration, or it can be cast so horribly in the first place that you simply _die_. Each part of the transfiguration must also be done individually and with precision. A single misstep can be disastrous when performing certain types of human transfiguration, so it is not something to be taken lightly. This of course poses a problem if you have a particularly complex series of transfigurations that you want to recreate, identically, repeatedly."

"Not sure I'm following you."

"Say, for example, I had the need to look like my _old self_. It's not something I want to do any more than absolutely necessary, but it _is_ going to be necessary, and I cannot avoid it for too much longer. I _can_ make myself look like that again, but it will require a series of very complex and delicate transformations. I have to change my bone structure, muscle mass, skin texture, hair, eyes, so on and so forth. Going through the entire series of transfigurations, one at a time, will prove time-consuming. The spell I'm working on will incorporate all of the individual transfigurations necessary to recreate my old appearance, into a single spell that I can cast much more efficiently. I'm also incorporating protections so that only _I_ can _finite_ the spell and restore my real appearance. Well… actually, you'd be able to do it as well. I'm just making it so that it can only be _finite_ 'd in parseltongue."

"Oh… So this is so that you can look like Voldemort again?"

"Yes."

"So uhm… what… are you going to do?" Harry asked, awkwardly.

"I've heard whispers that several of the Death Eaters are getting antsy with my lack of presence. Bellatrix has the potential to be especially dangerous in that regard, as we both know what she did _last time_ I mysteriously vanished."

Harry stared at him blankly for a moment. "Oh! The Longbottoms?"

"Yes."

"Right. Yeah, that's… not something we want happening again."

"No, we don't," Tom confirmed focusing on his notes again. "Plus, if I'm to interact with Wormtail again with the intention of using him to clear the name of your godfather, then I'll need to look like my old self. I have no intention of letting _any_ of the Death Eaters learn of my new appearance."

"Ah, okay. Right. Well, then… I guess I should let you get back to it."

Tom grinned slightly but never took his eyes off the parchment he was scratching away notes on.

Harry sighed and went back to where he'd been standing in the center of the room earlier and sighed as he looked at the dummy facing him from across the room.

"If you're bored with the disarming spell, pick a new one and do that instead," Tom said. "Start stunning the dummy instead."

Harry nodded, squared his shoulders and aimed his wand. " _Stupefy!"_

The dummy blasted to bits and Harry gaped at it.

"Uh…."

Tom snickered. "I'm fairly sure, _that's_ not supposed to happen. You _probably_ need to practice that one a bit more." A lazy wave of Tom's wand and the scattered bits of the dummy reassembled themselves into perfect form.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, aiming his wand and trying to focus a bit better, this time. "Practice."

— —

"I know we've been doing dinner each night lately, but it might be a good idea for you to go home earlier tonight," Tom said at one point the next day.

Harry frowned at him in confusion. "Why?"

"There is one final ingredient that I have neglected to get that I need to attend to tonight."

"Ingredient?"

"A _piece_ of Sirius Black's father."

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh." Harry paused thoughtfully for a moment before looking committed. "I'll come with."

"Are you sure?" Tom asked, looking dubious. "Grave-robbing is _not_ pleasant, by any stretch of the imagination. You really don't have to do this."

"Like _you_ should have to do it?" Harry pointed out. "You're doing this _for me_. The least I owe you is to keep you company during the unpleasant parts."

The sun did not set until after 9 o'clock that evening, but the sky was beginning to dim as twilight began to settle over the countryside by 8:30, and that was when they set out from Tom's cottage. They disapparated and reappeared an instant later in the shadow of a dense group of trees, next to an ornate victorian stone wall, and a large stone building.

"Where are we?" Harry asked.

"Highgate Cemetery in North London," Tom said as he began walking forward, looking around, searching for something.

Beyond the building they'd apparated next to, Harry could see rows of ornate tombstones, carved marble and stone statues of angels, and children, and lions. And everywhere there was plant-life. Vines, overgrown grass, flowers, and moss covered _everything_.

"It's… impressive," Harry said, comparing it mentally to the wide open and mostly barren graveyard where Voldemort's resurrection had taken place a little over a year earlier.

"It's actually designated as a nature preserve," Tom said off-hand as he walked forward and around a pillared wall and walked towards a tall stone building. BLACK was written in large gothic letters over the top. "Ah, good, here it is."

"A mausoleum?" Harry asked as they walked up to the front of the stone structure.

"That's right," Tom said distractedly as he began waving his wand over the front door of the structure. "This might take a moment. The Blacks are a paranoid bunch, and being familiar with the Dark Arts as they have always been, they've always been especially cautious to make sure their remains wouldn't end up in someone's brew."

"So they warded their mausoleum?"

"Yes," Tom said, still sounded distracted as he bent to one side and seemed to examine something that Harry couldn't see before making several complex motions with his wand, apparently casting one spell after another.

Harry heard an audible _click_ and the ornately decorated wrought iron door slowly opened outwards.

Harry followed Tom inside and had to pause for a moment as he took in the size of the room. From the outside, the mausoleum had looked no larger than seven by seven feet square; inside, was an entirely different matter.

"I really should stop being surprised by these space expansion spells," Harry muttered to himself as he shook his head. Tom's wand tip was glowing and a moment later the ball of light flew from it's place and soared up to the ceiling where it hovered motionless. The structure had an arched ceiling down a narrow hallway that stretched at least thirty feet in front of them. All along the walls on each side, were two rows of shelves, one low, one high; holding a series of ornate caskets.

The air was thick and musty and Harry made a conscious effort to breath as little as possible.

"Don't touch anything," Tom instructed as he began walking down the narrow central hall.

He examined the small plaques beneath each of the caskets as he moved forward, coming to a stop several columns in. Harry came up from behind him and looked over his shoulder.

 _Orion Black_

 _1929-1979_

Tom waved his wand over the section of shelf that held Orion Black's casket and appeared to cast several spells that Harry couldn't hope to recognize. Finally he seemed finished and the next thing Harry knew, the section of shelf that held the casket slid out, as if it were on rollers, even though, as far as Harry could tell, it was just a solid slab of stone.

Harry stepped back out of the way and waited as Tom reached forward and began to lift the lid. He grunted with the effort as it started to shift and Harry moved forward. "Can I help?"

"Yes, actually. This part has to be moved manually. Using a spell would trigger one of the protections."

Harry quickly moved to the side opposite Tom and together they lifted the heavy lid and shifted it enough to see inside. Harry scrunched up his nose and once again made a conscious effort to breath shallow short breaths. It was the smell of old death. More musty and moldy than fresh and rancid, but still entirely unpleasant. The interior of the coffin was lined with cloth, but it was old and dirty. The body that rest upon it was nothing more than dark leathery skin stretched over a skeleton in fancy dress robes. It was strange, standing there and staring at a dead body. Even stranger thinking that this skeleton was Sirius' father.

Tom was busy waving his wand over the casket again, but a moment later, he appeared satisfied and simply reached in and started to pull open the front of the robes. Harry cringed as things began to dislodge, and fall apart. Dust and dirt seemed to be everywhere but Harry knew it was probably not just _dirt_. Next thing Harry knew, Tom was pulling at a rib and Harry even heard something _snap_. He flinched and cringed and took a step back, feeling his skin crawl.

"Alright, that should do. Help me put the lid back on?"

"Yeah, sure," Harry said, grimacing in disgust at the whole thing. He reached forward and together they managed to shift the heavy lid back into place and Tom waved his wand to return the casket and it's shelf back into position.

"WHO DARES DISTURB A DESCENDANT OF THE NOBLE HOUSE OF BLACK!" a terrible voice bellowed, making both Harry and Tom jump from shock. Harry might have even screamed, not that he would ever admit to it.

He spun around, backing into Tom, who was standing there with is wand out already, and found that they were now both staring into the hallow dead eyes of a wispy floating ghost.

" _What the_ \- who the hell haunts a mausoleum!?" Tom exclaimed in disbelief. "Do you honestly have _nothing_ better to do with your afterlife?!"

"YOU DARE TO DEFILE THE BONES OF MY DESCENDANTS WITH YOUR FILTHY —"

"Oh, shut up," Tom snapped, and much to Harry's surprise, the ghost actually did. "This is from the corpse of Orion Black," Tom said, holding up the rib. Harry grimaced at the sight of it. "I'm collecting it for the sake of Orion's son, Sirius. He needs it for a dark potion that will restore his body to full health after he was nearly killed in an attack on the Ministry."

The ghost, which Harry would guess based on his clothes, was at least a few centuries old, actually looked intrigued by this.

"An attack on the Magical Ministry?" the ghost asked, sounding more _pleased_ than anything else. "How do you know him? Are either of you a Black?"

"Not by name, but Harry here is a descendant of Phineas Nigellus Black," Tom nodded to Harry. "Sirius Black is his godfather. Harry wanted to save the man, and came to me for help."

"What proof do I have that you do not have some other nefarious intentions for that bone? Great harm could befall the Black family with any number of dark potions and rituals that use _bone_ as an ingredient."

"Sirius is the only one left from Orion's line. Orion's other son, Regulus, died over ten years ago. The only other Blacks left are the daughters of Cygnus Black, Orion's cousin. Orion's bone would be significantly less effective against any of the surviving family members. If I intended to use a spell or ritual on or against any of them, I would have broken open Cygnus' casket, not Orion's," Tom argued smoothly.

The ghost seemed to consider them seriously for a long moment before a pleased smile seemed to spread across his translucent lips.

"You are a skilled wizard to get this far unharmed," he mused. "And quite young, too. Dark hair, dark eyes, and pale skin - are you sure you're not a Black?"

"Unfortunately I can guarantee I share no direct lineage with the Blacks," Tom said, shaking his head. "My line draws from the Gaunts, and Peverells, among others."

"The Peverells?" the ghost repeated with surprise. "Of the West Country? A powerful family indeed… Necromancers and enchanters!"

"Harry can trace his line to the Peverell family as well," Tom said, looking intrigued. "We know only that we each descend from two out of three brothers from the Peverell family that lived sometime in the 1200's, but I can find very little information on them outside of that."

"And how is it that you can be so sure that you both descend from such ancient and noble wizards?" the ghost asked curiously.

"We each inherited a family heirloom; passed down through the eldest line, for generations."

The ghost's pale eyes widened and he swooped forward so fast, Harry barely had time to jump back. The ghost came to float mere inches from Tom's face, but Tom had not flinched or budged from where he stood.

"Heirlooms?" the ghost whispered, his eyes wild and glowing.

"A stone that summons the spirits of the dead, and an invisibility cloak that has never deteriorated," Tom said in a hushed voice, his own eyes seemingly alight with some sort of excitement. Harry watched them with a sense of curiosity and confusion.

"The Hallows," the ghost hissed in delight.

"Hallows? Is that what they're called? You know of these artifacts, then?" Tom asked.

"Know of them!" the ghost cackled, rearing backwards and laughing insanely. He performed a twirl in the air coming to stop a moment later so they could see his back. Harry gaped at the sight of a giant knife sticking out from between his ribs and the sight of ghostly faded blood, dripping from the wound. "I died because of the first bother's _Death Stick!_ I had it. It was _mine!_ But that bastard stole it from me. Pried it from between my cold dead fingers," he growled bitterly.

"The Death Stick?" Tom asked, taking a step forward. "You mean the unbeatable wand?"

"Yessss…" the ghost hissed. "The Hallows! The Hallows!"

"I don't understand," Tom said lowly.

"There are _three_. The _Deathly Hallows!_ The Unbeatable Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and Death's Shroud of Invisibility. Master all three and you master _Death!_ "

"Master death?" Tom whispered. "Yes, I've heard that something was supposed to happen if all three were brought together, but what does _mastering death_ actually _mean?_ "

"What does it mean," the ghost mocked. "What do you _think_ it means!?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell me," Tom ground out through clenched teeth.

"Immortality! Or at least… so they say. Perhaps… it means something else. No one really knows. No one has ever brought all three together."

"You say you had the wand? How did you get it?" Tom asked.

"I won it," the ghost said, looking smug. "Took it from a miserable excuse of a wizard who had no right in owning such a precious artifact. The man's blood was laced in _filth_. Mudblood mother," the ghost spat into the air and twisted up his face in apparent disgust. "Such a man had no business claiming ownership of the _Death Stick._ "

"You stole it," Tom stated.

"I _killed him_ ," the ghost hissed.

"If the wand is _unbeatable_ , then how did you defeat him?"

The ghost seemed to puff out his chest and tip up his chin defiantly. "He didn't have the wand in hand at the time."

"He was unarmed?" Tom said, sounding both amused and considerably less impressed.

"It matters not! What matters is that I claimed the wand, and it was _mine!_ "

"But someone killed you and stole it?"

The ghost sneered. "That dirty bastard, Flavius Belby. He murdered me and _stole_ it from me!"

"Flavius Belby? The only wizard to ever survive a Lethifold attack?" Tom echoed almost incredulously. "Huh… that's almost insanely coincidental…"

"Why?" Harry asked.

"From what I gathered from the Sidhe, I'm convinced that your cloak is made from the skin of a Lethifold… A patronus can drive away a lethifold, but there's no spell or technique known today for catching or restraining one, so it's a mystery as to how anyone might have managed to _skin_ one. At best a person can hope to drive them off before they devour you. Flavius Belby was attacked, but still managed to drive it off… the wand might have a special power to stop them… It could have even been used by your ancestor to catch the one used to create your cloak."

Harry grimaced. He still really disliked the idea that his cloak could be made of something's _skin_. It didn't _feel_ like skin…

"This is fascinating… do you know what might have happened to the wand after Belby?" Tom asked the ghost.

"How would I know? I was dead," the ghost said petulantly.

Tom rolled his eyes. "I thought perhaps you might have haunted him out of spite, and ended up here after he died as well."

The ghost looked even more disgruntled at this and seemed to fold his arms across his chest. "Well, I did not."

"Fine, fine… anyway, this is all rather beyond the point of things. It's getting late and we have a potion to attend to, to save Harry's godfather. Is there anything else of value you can tell me about the Peverells?"

"I have nothing more to say," the ghost said snootily.

"Fine. Then we shall go. Your descendant might not have much time left if we do not hurry."

The ghost pinned Tom with narrow, suspicious eyes, but finally appeared to concede. "Fine. You may leave."

"Before I go, may I ask your name?"

"I am Rigel Orionis Black," the ghost replied nastily.

"Phineas Nigellus' great-grandfather," Tom mused. "Well, thank you," Tom added, not sounding all that thankful at all. Tom moved forward, walking right through the ghost without so much as flinching. Harry quickly followed, making sure to move _around_ the ghost instead, and glancing back warily as they made their way back to the front entrance. Tom flicked his wand and the glowing orb of light came down from the ceiling and seemed to disappear back into the tip of his wand as he stepped through the open door. Harry quickly exited the mausoleum and watched as Tom shut the large iron door with his wand and waved it about several times, apparently resetting some of the charms he had disabled earlier.

"Well… that was interesting," Harry remarked almost sarcastically, as they put some distance between themselves and the stone building.

"Interesting, indeed," Tom mused. "Interesting… indeed."

— —

Tom stood before a full length standing mirror in his bedroom, wearing only a pair of loose cotton trousers, staring at himself. He'd taken Harry back to Privet Drive an hour earlier and now he was once again alone with his thoughts… and Nagini. It was still strange, looking into a mirror and seeing this face and this body. His hand came up and brushed against his cheekbone, almost as if part of him still didn't believe it was real.

He was a bit thin and lacked in much muscle mass compared to what he might prefer, but this was basically what his physique looked like at this age, so he could hardly complain. His old scars were all gone though, and for that he was grateful. Of course, there had been no scars on his reborn body, so it made sense that they wouldn't have magically reappeared on his body now, just because he looked young again. It wasn't his actual teenaged body, just a de-aged version of his newly crafted reborn body. He was quite glad to be rid of his reborn body's original appearance though. He could remember a time in the grips of his insanity where he had looked at his naked body in the mirror and _liked_ what he saw. He didn't expect he would like it much now, though.

He was glad that his plan with the Fidelius had succeeded in obscuring his childhood appearance from Dumbledore's memory. If it hadn't, he would have had to resort to constantly using a transfigured appearance, _forever_ , and the idea of using an unfamiliar face for the rest of his life was quite unappealing.

It was strange enough getting used to his _teenaged_ face, but getting use to a new face all together would have been just odd.

And now, he was about to go and put that damned snake face back on. He sighed and held his wand aloft for a moment before he began a series of elaborate movements over and around himself, while focusing his mind on the changes he needed to make to restore his old serpentine appearance.

Nagini slithered around the room behind him, looking up and darting her tongue out curiously as his appearance slowly morphed from the healthy youthful appearance he was gradually growing accustomed to again, back to the unnaturally tall, thin, excessively pale, and entirely inhuman appearance of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

His skin looked stretched thin and his veins appeared visible through it's semi-translucent coloration. A faint texture of scales dusted his shoulders and neck and up over the back of his head. His nose vanished, and he sneered at himself causing the slits he now had for nostrils to flare open slightly. And finally, his eyes changed, turning red and slitted.

' _You've turned back, master?'_ Nagini hissed, curiously.

' _This is only temporary, Nagini. I will be restoring my new appearance, soon enough.'_

She made a hissing sound in response that Tom interpreted as disinterest, before she turned and slithered across the room towards the hearth where she curled up on a round plush bed, Tom had made for her.

"Testing," he said aloud before grimacing and pointing his wand at his throat. "Ahh… Ahhhh… Ahhh," he said repeatedly as the pitch shifted again and again until it had reached the high, breathy quality he'd developed over the years. "Alright, that sounds about right," he said to himself once satisfied. "Now to set the memory of the parent spell to learn all of these changes."

Once again, he began a series of elaborate wand movements, keeping his eyes closed and his mind focused as he went through the process of finalizing his new spell. He focused on breathing life into the new spell; making it whole and protected. Finally he let out a slow breath and opened his eyes, as the last strings of magic wove together, completing the spell.

' _Now to test it,'_ he hissed to Nagini, not that she was honestly paying him that much attention.

He pointed his wand at himself and hissed out ' _finite!'_

All of the changes dissolved as he shortened, instantly grew back his hair, and his youthful, human appearance was fully restored. After a brief examination to make sure nothing unusual had slipped his notice, he once again raised his hand and performed a swift wave and flick of his wand and cast the spell. He said nothing aloud because he saw no point in assigning a word to a spell he would never verbalize out loud anyway. As far as he was concerned, it was another layer of precaution. The last thing he needed was for anyone else to be able to cast this spell upon themselves.

As soon as the quick movement was done, his appearance began shifting, all things at once and in perfect sync. An instant later, the Dark Lord Voldemort was once again staring back at him from the mirror.

"Success," he remarked aloud. _'Not that I ever doubted it would work,'_ he added in the hissing speech of parseltongue to Nagini.

' _Master can transform back and forth, now?'_ Nagini asked.

' _Yes. I can switch at will."_

" _Strange,"_ the snake remarked, sounding bored, before shifting her head over her coils so she could better absorb the heat from the low-burning hearth.

Tom rolled his eyes at her and raised his wand, about to cancel the spell again when he paused and frowned. His encounter with the ghost of Rigel Black earlier that evening had gotten him thinking. The Sidhe had told him, after their brief visit where she had revealed the ring's power, that there were greater secrets still to be revealed in regards to these objects. She had claimed that if he did a bit more digging and came across a few specific clues he would provide her the opportunity to visit him again with more information. He _had_ done some light research into the topic, but had found surprisingly little on the subject. But he hadn't known the name 'Hallows' before now. Perhaps that would improve his chances of finding something of value. It was certainly interesting to think that reuniting the three objects was supposed to cause something to happen. His ring, Harry's cloak, and the unbeatable wand. A wand that Rigel Black had apparently owned for a time, only to lose it to Flavius Belby. But who might have had it after that?

He wanted to know more - to conduct some more research, now that he had new questions to ask, and new keywords to search with, he felt like there was a greater chance of finding something really interesting. However his library here at the safehouse was decidedly inferior to the library at Malfoy Manor; which is where he _really_ wanted to go if he was serious about digging up some useful information.

Seeing as how he'd gone to all the trouble of adopting this appearance… perhaps he should take advantage of this moment, and pay the manor a visit. It would be a good test, as well. Narcissa was not one of his Death Eaters, so he owed her little of his attention and would not have to interact too much with her.

Thoughts of the manor brought Lucius to mind and a pang of regret managed to shoot its way through his chest. He grimaced. There were certainly times when these emotions were entirely bothersome things. In all honestly, they were almost _always_ bothersome, and yet he wouldn't go back to the way he was, even if his life depended on it.

Or at least, that's what he hoped.

His sense of self-preservation had already proven to be powerful enough to cause him to make entirely moronic mistakes. Mistakes that led to destructive, horrible things, that he had no desire to repeat. Not to mention the delays and setbacks it had caused on his grander plans.

In any case, he knew that he would need to interact with the Death Eaters, and soon, and putting off even this first small step, served no useful purpose. He still didn't know _what_ he was going to do with his existing crop of Death Eaters, since a great many of them were of little use to him now, but until he _did_ know, he needed to keep them on standby. His vanishing act would only be tolerated for so long before someone did something stupid.

With his mind set, he walked over to his wardrobe and reached into the back where several sets of large, flowing, black robes, still hung. With his increase in height, due to the transformation, the cotton trousers he was wearing now ended mid-calf, and they were sagging loosely on his boney hips.

He made a point to not pay too close of attention to his body, as it brought forth nothing but entirely unpleasant thoughts and memories, and instead quickly dressed in something that _fit_ , covered by his large robes. He pulled the heavy hood up over his head and left the room after a brief word to Nagini about returning later.

He exited the cottage and, once past the anti-apparition wards, he disapparated to a spot on the road a very short distance from the front gate of Malfoy Manor. The first thing he did was begin a quick sweep of detection charms. As he approached the gate he did find a few flimsy spells from the Ministry to keep track of who came and who went from the house. He made quick work of the spells with a few flicks and swishes of his wand, modifying the charms by shear force to now send false reports to the Ministry.

With that taken care of, he walked right through the gate, as if it were nothing more than smoke, and quickly made his way up the path to the front door. He pulled in a calming breath and stood tall, trying to affect an air of extreme confidence, despite his racing heart. He wasn't even sure why his nerves were acting up. It was idiotic. _He_ was being _idiotic._ It was _ridiculous._ He was out of practice and felt out of his comfort zone. He knew that he _needed_ to get used to this again.

Using his anger and frustration with his own overactive emotions as a foundation, he affected an air of stoic intimidation that he felt would be convincing enough. He reached up and rapped on the door with the backs of his knuckles. He didn't feel at the moment that walking right in would be entirely appropriate, and had opted to grant them this one curtesy, even though he probably wouldn't have done so before.

Draco Malfoy had just happened to be walking through the halls at that exact moment, and was close enough that he heard the knock on the door. If it weren't for this one coincidence, there was little chance that he ever would have answered the front door himself. As it was, he _was_ there at this exact moment. Frowning across the entry hall he'd been passing through, at the door, he glanced around, expecting the house elf to pop in and answer the door. But it didn't. He let out a huff of frustration. No doubt the lazy thing was wrapped up in some nonsense…

He walked across the hall and pulled the door open himself. Draco didn't know who to expect to find on the other side of the door this late in the evening - most likely another one of those twats from the Ministry, sticking their offensive noses where they didn't belong - but what he found there was most certainly the _last_ thing he'd expected to find.

"Hello-oh gaa- M-my Lord!" He stammered in shock taking a stunned step backwards and gaping. He felt like his heart had just stopped in his chest, and then suddenly exploded into a pace that would put a humming bird to shame. Some voice seemed to scream in the back of his mind, and it sounded a lot like Draco's father. Getting the message he instantly fell to his knees, bowing his head and averting his eyes.

Draco had _seen_ the Dark Lord before this, obviously. The wizard had spent a great deal of his time in Malfoy Manor the prior summer, but Draco had never interacted with him _directly_. Certainly not alone, at the very least.

"You may rise, Draco," the tall pale wizard said in what sounded like a somewhat impatient tone.

Draco's knees felt weak and for a moment he wasn't entirely convinced he _couldn't_ stand back up, but he forced himself to swallow his panic and stood tall, still averting his eyes.

"Where is your mother?" the Dark Lord asked flatly.

"My —" Draco trailed off haltingly as fear shot through him. He and his mother had been convinced that the Dark Lord was most likely _very_ displeased with Draco's father for his failure… Surely he wouldn't take that anger out on his _mother? Right?_

"Draco! Minky said there was a —" Narcissa Malfoy appeared through a large set of double doors that lead off into a hallway and came to an abrupt halt as she saw who was standing there. "My Lord!" she gasped and quickly curtseyed low, bowing her head. "I'm so relieved to see you are well. Bella has been beside herself with worry," she said with a forcefully polite and pleased tone. The honest _fear_ in her voice was not all that well masked, however.

"You thought me injured?" the Dark Lord said with an amused edge to his tone.

"I - My deepest apologies my Lord!" Draco's mother said quickly. "We did not know what to think. You know how the mind always finds a way to leap to the worst conclusions when things are unknown."

"Mmm, yes," he seemed to muse quietly. "I need to make use of your library. Recent events have led to certain revelations, and I must conduct further research on the matter."

"It - it might not be entirely _safe_ , My Lord," Draco's mother warned in a quiet voice. "The Ministry has been keeping an entirely inappropriate level of surveillance over the manor…"

"Yes, I found their surveillance charms," the Dark Lord said in a bored tone. "I've dealt with them, you should not have to worry about them any longer. On the off chance that someone at the Ministry with half a brain to think with, actually comes and takes note that the charms are supplying inaccurate readings, you can simply claim ignorance and insist they must have been cast poorly and began to malfunction."

"I - _thank you_ My Lord," Narcissa said graciously. She casually maneuvered herself so that she was now standing in between Draco and the Dark Lord.

"Given the surveillance charms, I assume that Bella and Wormtail have vacated the manor?"

"Yes, my Lord. Bella is in a safe-house not far from here. I visit her as often as I can safely manage. I… do not know where Pettigrew has gone."

"It doesn't matter," the Dark Lord said dismissively, waving one hand. Draco's eyes were drawn to the unnaturally long fingers for a moment, but he quickly diverted his gaze, afraid of being caught staring. "I would like to make use of your home's library… _Please_."

The 'please' sounded forced and mostly insincere, but Narcissa Malfoy still obviously found it surprising enough that she gaped for a moment before smiling as graciously as she could. "Well, yes, _of course_. Our home is yours. You honor us with your presence, My Lord," she bowed her head again, motioning with one arm towards the doors and hallway that led towards the library, still keeping herself between the Dark Lord and Draco.

"Thank you," the Dark Lord said in a curt tone. He took several steps towards the door and slowed, hesitating for a moment before turning and looking back over his shoulder. He reached up and pulled the hood down, revealing his bald head and face in all it's horrible glory. Draco could not help but stare now.

"I… am… _sorry_ , for what happened to Lucius," he said in a clipped and awkward tone, looking entirely uncomfortable. "Are you… coping?"

"Coping?" Narcissa echoed in a weak, stunned voice.

"You have lost your husband and your social standing in one terrible night. It must be a stressful time for your family."

Narcissa's jaw floundered for a moment before she forced it closed and put on a weak, forced smile. Her bottom lip quivered. "I worry for him," she admitted. "Azkaban is…"

"I _will_ find a way to free Lucius," the Dark Lord said, and it was in a tone filled with such certainty that Draco felt the first flicker of hope since this entire mess had started. "Breaking him out of Azkaban now would do little good in the long run. He would be a fugitive and would have to be in hiding, where his usefulness would be almost fully negated. I wish to find a way to have him released, _legitimately_. Lucius will be most effective if he is given the opportunity to regain his social standing. I have confidence that if anyone can manage it, given enough time, your husband will."

"Thank you, My Lord," Narcissa said, bowing. "Your words are most gracious. I… I don't know what to say. I had feared you would be angry…"

"I would have been angry had I been unable to learn the Prophecy… that is true," the Dark Lord said, thoughtfully.

"But… I thought it was destroyed?" Draco said, before he could stop himself.

The Dark Lord looked at him and there was a glint of curious amusement in those terrible red eyes. Draco didn't think he'd ever seen so much as a hint of any emotion on the man's face before now. Other than cold indifference or horrible fury. Of course, he hadn't exactly interacted with the Dark Lord very much, so what did he know?

"It was destroyed," the Dark Lord said. "But I still learned of it's contents… and much more. So very much more… It is part of why I am now in need of your library. Should I find any texts of value, I will be taking them with me. I will make duplicates and return the originals when it is convenient to do so. Now, if you don't mind?"

"Of course!" Narcissa said quickly, once again stepping in front of Draco and waving her arm in a leading gesture towards the doorway. "I'll guide you if you like."

"That will not be necessary," the Dark Lord said as he quickly strode away, his long black robes, billowing behind him in a most unnatural and intimidating fashion. Draco wondered what sort of charm he used on them, thinking back to when he first realized that Severus charmed his robes to billow in a certain fashion, just for the sake of intimidating the younger students and simple-minded Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs.

Finally the Dark Lord was out of sight and Draco felt a relieved breath escape his lungs.

"We are incredibly fortunate, Draco," Narcissa said in a quick hushed voice as she turned to face him. "Our family is still in the Dark Lord's good favor."

"Do you really think he can get father freed?" Draco asked before he could stop himself.

"I… do not know. I don't expect it would happen very soon, but if the Dark Lord is determined, I'm sure he will succeed. There is no wizard on earth as powerful as he."

Draco turned, looking down the hallway the Dark Lord had vanished from moments earlier and nodded his head slowly.

— —

In the end, Tom had collected a small stack of potential books before he finally decided to call it a night. It had already been quite late when he arrived at Malfoy Manor and he had an early morning the next day with Harry and the potion. Things were finally starting to get busy with the brewing and tomorrow would be the day that he would add the final round of ingredients, including Orion Black's rib bone.

He had just conjured a small bag and applied an expansion charm to the interior when he became aware of Draco Malfoy's presence. There was a false wall in this library that Tom had been aware of for many, _many_ years. Abraxas had shown it to him a very long time ago, but Tom suspected that Draco probably assumed he wouldn't know about it.

He began putting the books into the satchel, one by one, and spoke aloud. "You know, Draco, were I not in such good spirits, I would be very cross that someone dared to try and spy on me."

A small clatter and a gasp echoed from the tiny space between the walls and Tom couldn't help the amused curl of his lips. He wondered what such an expression would even look like on this face. He didn't think he'd ever honestly been _amused_ when he'd been Voldemort. Not without something horrible going along with it, at least.

A thin section of one of the bookcases slid open and Draco Malfoy stumbled out, looking horrified. "My Lord! I swear, I was not sp—"

"Stop talking, Draco," Tom said, cutting him off. The Malfoy spawn did as he was told and stopped immediately. He looked utterly terrified. Tom couldn't help but frown at that. It hadn't slipped his notice how protective Narcissa had been of him earlier. Lucius had thought that she babied Draco too much, but Tom could hardly fault her from wanting to protect her only child from a mass-murdering megalomaniac.

He could remember a time when seeing fear like that in the faces of his followers had felt like a _good_ thing. The fact that he had felt it was an accomplishment… it seemed ludicrous now. The idea seemed to have been that, if they were too busy being afraid of him, they wouldn't try to betray him… or something along those lines. The idea that fear equaled subservience and loyalty. But that wasn't loyalty.

They all came to him for different reasons, the desire for personal power under his command; the desire for revenge against some one or some idea; the desire to express their inner inclination to hurt and maim things. So long as he _understood_ what desires brought them to him, he could control them through that desire. But they could _all_ be controlled through fear.

Why had that notion pleased him so much before and yet could disgust him so thoroughly now? How could he have changed _so much?_ It baffled even himself… He had _never_ believed that the location and _health_ of his soul could make such a profound difference in the fundamental make-up of who he was…

Tom blinked, realizing he'd been lost in his thoughts for a moment and saw that Draco Malfoy was still standing before him, head bowed, and nearly shaking with fear.

He sighed. "I am not going to punish you, Draco," Tom said in a tired voice before turning and slipping the last two books into his conjured satchel.

"I am, _so sorry_ , my Lord," Draco said then, punctuating his apology. "I was merely curious to see if you were still here but did not want to disturb you."

"See to it that you do not do it again," Tom said, trying to emulate some degree of his old intimidation, but finding he had little honest desire to do so."

"I won't, my Lord. I swear it," Draco said, staring at the floor in submission. Tom observed him for a moment, remembering Abaxas at that age.

"Raise your head, boy," he said in a commanding tone.

Draco looked up cautiously, slowly standing straighter.

"You are a Malfoy. Hold yourself with the dignity that your father raised you with. Bow your head to no man."

"My Lord—?" Draco said in a small, confused voice.

"There was a time when I expected my followers to hold themselves with pride and dignity, even in my presence. There was a brief time when even your father enjoyed that luxury. But I began to lose myself along the way…" Tom trailed off, lost in thought again for a moment. Draco just stared at him with apparent dumbstruck shock.

"I learned something that night at the Ministry," Tom continued slowly as he mulled over how best to start introducing some new direction to those of his followers who he thought might continue to be useful to keep in contact with. The full truth was obviously out of the question, but perhaps bending it a bit… "I discovered that I had fallen into one of Dumbledore's traps. I fell into it many, many years ago, and had continued to fall deeper and deeper still, entirely blind to the cage, closing in around me… The revelation changed everything, Draco. _Everything_ has to change."

He turned and walked back to the table he'd been sitting at. There were still a few books laying to the side that he had decided not to take with him. He waved his hand towards them now, sending each one gently sailing through the air, to return to their proper locations on the shelves. He didn't even bother to use his wand for this. It was simple enough magic, and he still reveled in the fact that he could once again perform magic like this so effortlessly.

"I couldn't do that for many years, you know…" he mused, feeling rather pensive and maudlin. "I had mastered wandless levitation like that before I was even ten years old. Before I'd ever set a foot in the halls of Hogwarts, I had tremendous control over my mind and my magic. I was called a prodigy for a _reason_."

He turned and pinned Draco with a sharp look. "I _earned_ that title." Draco flinched but nodded numbly.

"But for many years now - even before my temporary downfall back in '81, my control had slipped. I rationalized the failings and pointedly ignored others. My arrogance convinced me that there was nothing wrong… but I was wrong. I was so very wrong… Dumbledore… let's say that his actions _poisoned_ me. And later still I slipped into a trap of his making, and never even knew it. It weakened me, and started tearing me apart from within, but my power was so great that my magic held me together despite the harm being done in secret. But one of the things that happened during this time was a maddening of my mind. Not only did my magical control weaken, but my mind began to fall apart. I became much more violent. I took out my irrational bursts of anger _on my own people_ , and not just the enemies who actually deserved it. But of course, I also became far more violent in general. The funny thing is that, in attempting to destroy me in my youth, Dumbledore set me on a path that made me far worse than I had been before; far more destructive; far more _terrible_."

Tom paused then, knowing much of what he said was unlikely to make much of any sense to the boy, but it hardly mattered. None of this was planned, he was just talking because some part of him felt the need to do so. And perhaps it was an opportunity to use Draco as a testing ground before attempting to introduce his _change_ to any of the actual Death Eaters. Just the same, there _was_ some part of this discussion that Draco specifically could be valuable for.

He turned his attention back on the young blond mulling over how best to frame his slowly forming idea in a way that would seem to make some sort of sense to Draco.

"I learned the truth that night, in the Ministry. I had sought the prophecy but found something much more valuable," Tom paused and laughed humorlessly, and Draco flinched, looking mildly horrified. Tom grinned, imagining just how awful it must have been to see _this face_ laugh.

"The prophecy was never real. It was fake from the very beginning. Harry Potter was never foretold to bring about my downfall. Harry Potter was only ever bait in a trap, set by Dumbledore. Dumbledore has been planning that boy's death since before he was even born," Tom chuckled and shook his head. "And when his plan backfired, Potter was tied to me in the most unexpected way. And so the old goat has spent the last decade trying to guarantee that the boy and I would try to kill each other, given the chance. More specifically, he's been training the boy to throw all caution to the wind and put himself in harms way, guaranteeing that I would eventually kill him — as the boy has no chance of killing _me._ It will come as a tremendous surprise, but Dumbledore needs that boy dead, and ideally, by my wand. It would weaken me, by his reckoning. And he's right. If I were to kill Potter, it would cause me great harm. That man has been trying to trick me into killing myself, by killing Potter for _years_. The poor boy had given his loyalty to the man who has been secretly trying to orchestrate his death for years." Tom let out a shaky, incredulous laugh and shook his head.

Draco gaped at him in utter astonishment.

"But I _know_ now," Tom said in triumph. "And best of all, Dumbledore does not _know_ that I know. He thinks his secret is still safe and that Potter is still safely in his control… Having learned the truth that night, I promptly sought out the cure for the.. _poison_ that Dumbledore actions tainted me with, and I have since been _cured_. My sanity is restored, and with it, my full power. There are those that dare to whisper about our duel in the atrium - calling it a _draw_ \- daring to suggest that I ran away _wounded?_ HA! If I were to face that man again today, I would utterly _destroy him_." Tom hissed, leaning forward and pushing his way into Draco's space more than he should have, but he couldn't help it. Draco flinched back, but managed to hold himself still an instant later.

Tom stood straight again, allowing Draco to breath again. "I was close with your grandfather when I was younger… did you know that?"

"My grandfather?"

"We attended Hogwarts together. Abraxas and I shared a dorm room, our beds were right beside each other…" Tom mused.

Draco's jaw dropped.

Tom chuckled. "He was not kind to me those first few years. He was downright _vile_. And I hated him for it. We could not possibly have disliked each other more."

Draco's jaw floundered now and he looked mildly green.

"But we… sorted our differences, let's say," Tom smirked. "It's rare for a relationship to go from such extremes. Such loathing to something quite different. He became much more than just a trusted ally… I was closer to him than any others, for many years. You resemble him, you know. More so than you resemble your father from his youth, actually… You're sixteen now, correct?"

"Y-yes my Lord," Draco answered quickly, looking mildly shaken.

"Same year as Harry Potter," Tom stated smirking slightly.

Draco's face twisted with an instant reaction of dislike and Tom chuckled.

"You blame him… don't you? For Lucius' current predicament."

Draco's face hardened with hate, and he nodded.

"You shouldn't. If anyone is to blame, blame me. Hell, blame _Dumbledore_ before you blame Potter. I lured Potter into a trap there, so that I could acquire the prophecy, but the prophecy itself was a trap set by Dumbledore _for me_. So who is really to blame? Dumbledore for orchestrating the entire thing from on high? Me for falling for his damnable orchestrations? Lucius for managing to be delayed long enough by a group of school children to find himself unexpectedly up against the Order? The Order, for showing up at such an inopportune time?

"Blame is a tricky thing, Draco. Before I managed to heal my mind from Dumbledore's poison, I would have blamed your father for his failing that night. Honestly I would have blamed _everyone_. My anger could never be sated, because it was all consuming. You and your mother would have suffered greatly from that anger solely due to your connection to Lucius."

Once again, Draco looked quite ill, but wisely remained silent.

"My anger ruled me, and that made me weak to the manipulations of that bearded bastard. I have strengthened myself greatly, but there is still more I could do - a greater strength that Dumbledore fears I will attain, more than anything else. Do you know what it is, Draco?"

Draco shook his head, eyes wide and mute.

"Harry Potter," Tom said in a hissing whisper as a grin spread across his face. "The connection established between Potter and I the night Dumbledore's first trap failed, may provide the opportunity for Dumbledore to harm me, should I be foolish enough to kill Potter myself, but it also has the potential of granting me a strength greater than any other. And that is a strength that I _will_ have. Do you understand, Draco?"

The Malfoy heir gave a jerky nod of his head but slowly it switched to a horizontal shake as the boy apparently realized he didn't really understand at all.

"I intend to woo him to my side, Draco. Given the level of deceit and betrayal he has suffered at the hands of Dumbledore, I don't expect it will be as hard as most would think. But there is more to it than appealing to his anger and innate desire for revenge. Pointing out that his parents never would have died if Dumbledore had not betrayed them only goes so far and always inevitably leads back to the reality that I still killed them. No, to gain Potter's loyalty, I need to appeal to his sense of justice and demonstrate our… _humanity_. He needs to see that we are not simply the one-dimensional monsters he's seen us as all these years. He's been kept isolated — only been allowed to see our world through a certain shade of tinted glass. He needs to see those he considered enemies before as _human beings_ , and learn that our motives are deeper than he had been led to believe before. He needs to be convinced that joining our side isn't _turning dark; that it isn't a betrayal_ , but simply seeing the world for a truth he'd been blind to before. Do you understand why I'm telling you this, Draco?"

"Y-you want me to befriend Potter?" Draco asked more than answered.

"I want you to make him see that you can be human. Make him see that you have weaknesses, and strengths. Hopes and dreams. He will connect with that. Now he only sees you as an arrogant, spoiled rich boy who calls his best friend a mudblood, and mocks his other best friend's financial woes. You are nothing but a _bully_ to him now. He cannot see you as anything more than that. A one-dimensional bully. Show him that he's wrong. Show him that you are complex and relatable and capable of being honorable in your own way."

Draco nodded his head slowly and the dazed look was gradually fading from his eyes as his mind began to work over Tom's words.

Tom began to slowly pace in front of the young Malfoy heir, looking at him speculatively. "Lucius often praised your skill in Occlumency. He said you were a natural at it from a very young age. He insisted that you were good enough at it to give Severus a real struggle. Tell me, Draco, was your father exaggerating or is this an accurate description of your skill?"

Draco stood taller now, chest puffed out and chin held high. "I'm extremely confident in my occlumency, my Lord," he said.

Tom smirked. "I'm going to test that statement. Prepare yourself, Draco."

Fear flashed in the young blond's eyes for a split second before Tom crashed his way into his mind. Chaos reigned for all of an instant before everything lined up and vanished, fading away one thing at a time, until there was nothing but the sound of the ocean, crashing against an invisible beach, and an endless expanse of white. Tom took in the vision for a moment, impressed with how quickly the boy had cleared his mind, before beginning the process of seeking out the cracks and pulling at the strings of the seams. It took a bit more effort than usual, which was really saying something, but Tom managed to drag out a slew of interesting memories — all focused on various interactions Draco had with Harry — before finally retreating to find Malfoy on his knees on the floor, panting and clutching at his head.

"Well done, Draco," Tom said, pleased.

"Th-thank you, m-my Lord," Draco panted before slowly pushing himself up on shaky legs.

"Dumbledore must never know _any_ of what I told you tonight. _None of it!_ " Tom said firmly and Draco nodded quickly. "Severus as well. I'm sorry to say it, but you cannot trust him. He must not know that I put you up to any interactions you engage in, regarding Potter. He _must not_ know. Can you do this for me, Draco?"

"I - _yes_. Yes, my Lord," Draco said, eagerly now.

"Good," Tom remarked, grinning again.

"Ah… and the other Slytherins, my Lord?" Draco asked, cautiously.

"You're a smart boy. I'm sure you can come up with _some_ excuse to convince them to change their attitude towards Potter. Just be careful. Dumbledore and Snape _must_ _not_ grow suspicious."

"Yes my Lord," Draco said.

"Good. Now I must be going. Early morning tomorrow. Goodnight Draco."

"G-goodnight my Lord."

— —


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"Put in the bi-corn horn powder," Tom said as he worked on preparing a paste that Harry thought smelled rather foul.

"Me?" Harry asked, surprised.

"Yes, Harry. You. This Karab paste needs to be finished and the bi-corn horn needs to go in _now_. You're perfectly capable of doing it. It doesn't take a potions master. Just dump it in. It's already measured and ready."

Harry quickly moved to the side of the table where Tom was working and found the small square of cheese cloth that had a pile of powder resting in the middle. He carefully picked it up, making sure not to drop any, and walked to the large cauldron on the hearth.

"Just dump it?"

Tom chuckled. "Yes, Harry. Just dump it. Don't put in the cloth though."

"Right," Harry said feeling nervous. He'd been on the edge of his seat all morning. This was the final day of preparation and Tom had said that by the end of the day he would know for sure if it was going to work. If all went well, tomorrow would be the day they brought Sirius back from the dead.

Harry dumped the powder into the cauldron and stood and watched for a moment as the gentle bubbling that had going on for some time now, turned into a froth of bright yellow foam over the whole top surface.

"And I don't stir it or anything?" Harry asked.

"No, just drop it in. That's it." Tom set the pestle down and began to scoop the paste from the mortar out onto a wooden board where he then started sprinkling a powder of some sort over the goop. It started to sizzle and the goop turned purple and seemed to take on the consistency of play-dough.

Tom began to knead the lump, occasionally adding a few more pinches of some powder and then kneading it some more. After several minutes of this, he flattened it with the ball of his palms and actually conjured a rolling pin with a wave of his wand and and flattened it some more with that. Harry watched in mild bewilderment, wondering exactly what was going on now.

Tom vanished the rolling pin with another wave of his hand and then went over to a cupboard and pulled out a bottle containing what Harry realized was the remaining blood from their first potion, made from the dried bandages. Tom had already used some of the blood in the potion and Harry had assumed that was the last of it, but apparently not.

Tom poured a precise amount of the blood out onto the center of the flattened dough-goop, put the bottle away and then brought out a portion of Orion's rib, which Harry could only assume Tom had cut in half at some point, because he knew it had been larger before. Tom placed the rib in the center of the puddle of blood and then began to fold the dough up and over until it was like a pouch, containing the rather unpleasant bits of bone and blood. When Tom made his first move to start kneading it again, Harry cringed, expecting blood to come squirting out of it, but none did.

In fact, the dough only seemed to increase in size and consistency and Harry could see no indication of a solid bone being stuck inside it.

"How… did that just happen?" Harry asked, both impressed and bewildered.

Tom smirked and continued working the dough. "Magic."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Ha, ha," he said sarcastically. "So… what exactly is it that you're making?"

"I inhabited a homunculus for the better part of a year prior to my resurrection," Tom said, "I see no point in cramming Sirius' soul inside one before the actual resurrection ritual, but the homunculus still acts as a foundation from which the body grows."

"Okay, you used that word before, but I don't actually know what a homuncu-whatever is."

"Homunculus, Latin for 'little man'. It's a fully formed human miniature, used in alchemy. The first recorded writings detailing the creation of a homunculus were by Paracelsus, whom I might add was a parselmouth, though that's not really important here. The method he developed for creating a homunculus is very much in line with how I created mine last year, though I improved the process considerably. Originally, by his direction, it would take up to forty weeks for the homunculus to form, and it would have to be kept in a horse' womb, during which time the horse must be fed an arcanum of human blood… Anyway, this does not need to be an actual homunculus, and we most certainly don't need to go through all of that trouble. This is just the barest of essentials for a homunculus for the sake of providing a foundation for the resurrection ritual to create a proper body for Sirius from."

"And you created the spells and ritual for all this?" Harry asked, finding he was mildly in awe of such a prospect.

"Yes, it's not like there are many wizards out there exploring these branches of magic since most consider it taboo, and those few who do, rarely tend to share their knowledge or publish it in any books."

"How do you even work something like this _out?_ "

Tom chuckled. "I read lots of books."

"Hph… you'd get on great with Hermione then," Harry said leaning forward on the table, resting his elbows on it's surface and his chin on his hands.

Tom hummed, still kneading the dough-like substance which now was a very pale fleshy tone with thin streaks of red throughout. "I'd like to meet your friends someday…." he paused, looking up with a concerned expression. "Only if you'd be alright with that, of course… I certainly don't —"

"Yeah, that'd be… that'd be alright," Harry said, interrupting Tom and nodding. "I'm not sure how to handle that whole thing… I _hate_ the idea of lying to them. I mean, I tell Ron and Hermione _everything_ , and it would be really weird to be keeping something this important from them, but I can't imagine either of them taking the truth very well."

"It's a very complicated issue, indeed," Tom agreed solemnly as he returned his focus to the ball of dough before him and began to work it with his hands to form it into a shape.

"I think I need to find a way to tell them some of the truth, at least," Harry said sadly. "I can't keep it all from them. I _need_ them… they've always been there for me, and I think I'd go barmy if I kept it _all_ from them."

"What parts exactly were you wanting to inform them of?"

"The stuff about Dumbledore," Harry said with a firm nod. "About how he set my parents and me up as part of a trap to get to you. And about how he's secretly trying to set me up so you kill me."

Tom nodded. "And what about our soul connection?"

Harry twisted up his mouth in thought. "Well, I guess I'd kind of have to mention some of that for it to make sense about Dumbledore wanting you to kill me."

"True," Tom responded with another nod. "And… what about me?"

"No," Harry said shaking his head. "I want them to give you an honest chance. I want them to judge you on the person you are _now_ , not to hold a grudge and only see you as who you were. Sirius can't seem to let any of that go, and I know it's going to cause some friction."

Tom looked at Harry with a blank expression for a moment before a soft smile touched his lips and he nodded. "Okay," he said softly.

"I think for you, even with Ron and Hermione, I'll stick with our cover story," Harry said.

"Consistency is safest," Tom agreed, still working the dough which was beginning to resemble a human figure. "I understand your desire to involve your friends, and I agree that it's wise to make sure they're aware not to trust Dumbledore, but I rather doubt either of your friends have much skill in occlumency."

"Uh - no. I'm pretty sure neither do, although Hermione could probably learn if she put her mind to it and had an actual book to reference. When Snape started me on _lessons_ last year, she combed the library for any mention of Occlumency but couldn't find anything."

"I wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore and Snape removed them from the library so you wouldn't realize that his _lessons_ were anything but. And as for learning it _for real_ , I'm sure that _you_ could learn if you put your mind to it," Tom pointed out.

Harry sighed. "Yeah… and I should. When Dumbledore showed up I was terrified he was going to read my mind and everything would be ruined."

"He tried to read mine," Tom said offhandedly.

Harry's head shot up and he gaped at Tom. "He did?!"

"Didn't do him any good, of course."

"Do you think that made him suspicious, though?" Harry asked, worriedly.

"I was subtle about it. He did not _know_ I was hiding things from him. Harry, you've got to remember, that there is probably no one alive as skilled with occlumency and legilimency as I am… Severus being the one possible exception, which I am loath to admit."

"So you can block a person from your memories and have them not realize it?" Harry asked, dubiously.

"I supplied false memories to act as decoys," Tom replied easily, working the dough to form two small bent legs coming from the bottom of the curved spine. Harry noted that it more closely resembled a human fetus than a 'small man' and couldn't help but imagine how much it would probably look like an ugly doll if he had tried to make it. Not that he had _any_ desire to manhandle play-dough made from human blood and bone. _No thank you._

"Dumbledore was making an effort to make his scan of my mind as non-intrusive and undetectable as possible, which made it especially easy to present him with falsified memories," Tom went on. "He rarely makes the effort to _force_ his way into a person's mind in a way that makes detecting hidden fallacies more obvious. That's more Severus' inclination, although he's probably quite a bit better than Dumbledore at being subtle and _still_ managing to suss out a lie."

"So Snape is still the bigger concern as far as having my mind read, then," Harry said, confirming what he already suspected anyway. "Would Snape have been able to tell you were lying?"

Tom paused looking thoughtful, "That night was a rather unexpected encounter and I hadn't anticipated needing to be prepared for such a thing at the time. _That night_ Severus would have probably noticed some holes in my deception, but would have had to make his intrusion much more obvious to really identify them. I am, however, more prepared now, and I am confident I could successfully mislead him."

"So… what's different now?" Harry asked, frowning.

"I've prepared more detailed false memories to feed any intruders."

"How do you prepare false memories?"

"It's not terribly complicated. When we start working on occlumency, I'll definitely go over it with you. You'll probably need to manufacture some memories about writing letters and using the letter box… which reminds me —" Tom paused in his sculpting and turned to wave his hand towards the cupboard. It opened and out floated two identical wooden boxes. They floated over to the table and came to rest in front of Harry. They were rectangular and the lid slid between two grooves along the inside-top of the box, until it hit a notch that wouldn't let it slide any further.

"Put something in one of them," Tom said, going back to his work.

"Uh, okay," Harry said, looking around the table for something. He settled on a piece of crumpled up parchment. He dropped it in one and slid the lid closed. He opened it again immediately and found that the box was empty. He slid the lid open on the other box and saw that the crumpled paper was inside it. Harry grinned. "Brilliant. You made these?"

"Of course," Tom said dismissively.

"This is something I'd really like to learn how to do," Harry said, testing the two boxes out a few more times, sending the piece of parchment back and forth between them. "This and those expansion charms for making things bigger on the inside."

Tom shrugged. "I could do that. Assuming you're going to be spending much more time with me this summer…" Tom trailed off and Harry looked up, frowning.

"Why wouldn't I?" he asked.

Tom looked up at him and there was something more raw to his expression than usual. Harry was coming to learn that Tom had a tendency to put walls up around himself most of the time. He put on this front of strength and confidence, but every now and then Harry would get a glimpse of someone deep inside him that was scared and unsure and overwhelmed… Someone filled with self doubt, when usually he came off as being so utterly sure of himself.

"Well… I mean, after this, you'll be going to stay with Sirius, I reckon," Tom said, shrugging and diverting his eyes to the table. "You'll get to visit your friends at the Weasley house, and get to spend time with your godfather, reconnecting. I imagine you won't have nearly as much time or reason to keep coming here. It's not like I've been all that entertaining a host most of the time anyway. Half the time I'm just working away on something while you sit there bored off your rocker."

"No," Harry argued, shaking his head immediately. "I… I really like it here. I'm not _bored_ so much… I mean, it's… it's kind of fascinating, and… and I like the talks we have."

Tom looked up through his fringe and gave Harry a small smile. "I like them too."

Harry felt his face heat up and he couldn't help the grin that worked its way across his face.

"Besides, if I were really all that bored, I could have gotten some more magazines or something to keep me occupied, but I didn't. I've _enjoyed_ watching you work and pestering you with endless distracting questions," Harry went on, causing Tom to actually laugh.

"Speaking of distracting, I'm nearly done with this, just give me a second," Tom said as he seemed to be putting in the finishing touches on his doughy baby. "There. Done."

"Done? As in, how done?" Harry asked, his excitement piquing.

"Done with _this bit_ ," Tom said warningly. "But this does mean that I've got some free time for a bit." He pulled out his pocket watch and glanced at it before slipping it back into his pocket. "There's about three hours until the next ingredient is added to the potion. We'll know then, if this is all going to work or not."

Harry felt his heart race. "What are the chances that it won't work?" Harry asked worriedly.

"Slim to none," Tom said dismissively, standing up and wrapping the dough-baby in some fabric and gently taking it over to the cupboard.

"When do we add that, uhm, thing, in?" Harry asked.

"At the time of the actual ritual. So, tomorrow."

"Ah, okay."

"So what do you want to do to pass the time now?" We could do some more spell exercises?"

Harry grimaced. "Uh… maybe not."

Tom rolled his eyes and chuckled. "You've got to put in the effort to master a skill."

"I don't doubt that, but those spell exercises were the one time that I _was_ bored here."

"You're casting _magic_ and you're bored," Tom said mock despairingly. Harry chuckled and shrugged unapologetically.

A light came into Tom's eyes then and he came around the table to stand by Harry. "I had a thought the other day… when you were talking about playing quidditch."

"Which time? I think I've bored you with talk of quidditch numerous times."

Tom waved his hand dismissively. "One of those times when you were reminiscing on how it was the first bit of magic that felt truly natural to you. Flying, I mean."

"Yeah, right," Harry said, nodding.

Tom leaned in and grinned. "Lets go flying."

Harry blinked at him. "You want to go flying?" he echoed, rather surprised.

"We can pop back to your room and grab your firebolt and pop right back here. It won't take more than a minute."

Harry found himself grinning quite widely now. "Yeah, okay. Why not? Sounds brilliant!"

Just as Tom had described, the two were able to quickly pop over to Privet Drive and back with Harry's broom, without incident. Harry followed Tom out to the back garden behind the cottage and then paused in confusion.

"Uhm… don't you need to get a broom?"

Tom chuckled. "Just wait and see. Feel free to take off. There aren't any muggles living anywhere nearby and there's a general muggle repelling ward around the surrounding couple acres."

Harry gave Tom a playful narrow-eyed suspicious glare but went ahead and mounted his broom. He kicked off the ground and took off into the air, closing his eyes momentarily and just basking in the feeling of the wind rushing through his hair and over his face. He opened them back up a moment later and flew a bit higher before slowing to a hover and looking down at Tom expectantly.

"So what am I supposed to be seeing here?" Harry called down to Tom who was still standing on the ground below.

Tom grinned back up at Harry and pulled out his wand. A blur of movement with his hand and he was off, flying into the air, straight for Harry, and _without a broom_.

"What the - !?" Harry exclaimed as he pulled up on his broom, just dodging Tom as he zoomed past laughing.

"How the bloody hell!? That's not supposed to be possible!" Harry called out after him as Tom did a few loops in the air around him. He seemed to leave a short trail of misty smoke behind him, but it dissipated quickly as he moved. It did seem to swirl around him when he came to a halt and floated mid-air. "Pfft - _not possible!_ It has always boggled my mind to hear wizards claim that there is _anything_ that is impossible. We have _magic!_ _Everything_ is possible!"

Harry laughed at the glee in Tom's eyes as he bent over and took off again in another streak of smoke and haze. Harry leaned forward on his broom and took off after him. The two flew in circles and loops through the air over the cottage for several minutes before Tom came to another floating stop and Harry slowed and hovered around him.

"I can't believe how fast you are!" Harry exclaimed, laughing and slightly out of breath from the exertion of the chase. "I could barely keep up - _on a Firebolt!_ That's insane!"

"You could do it too," Tom said, smiling widely. "I can teach you."

"No way!" Harry said, with an incredulous laugh.

"I can teach it to you, and I will! Unfortunately, for you to cast the spell, you'd have to be within the wards, and the wards end with the house, so that makes it difficult to teach it to you right at this moment. In any case, lets continue this for now. You lead this time!" Tom yelled back.

Harry grinned. "See if you can keep up!" he called out before leaning forward on his broom and taking off. The two continued their chase, flying through the sky playfully for the better half of the next hour. They did slow down eventually and enjoy some more leisurely flights, eventually leading to Harry slowly flying through the air and watching with bemused amazement as Tom seemed to be doing the backstroke through the sky, lazily flying along on his back with his hands behind his head and his eyes closed.

"It's like you're swimming… in the air," Harry remarked.

"It can be," Tom confirmed, not bothering to open his eyes as he continued to drift forward.

"So how'd you learn to do this?"

"Invented the spell," Tom said dismissively.

Harry rolled his eyes. "I should have guessed that."

"If there's one thing I've learned during my life, it's that wizards are sometimes remarkably unimaginative. It seems entirely unintuitive since so many things about traditional wizarding life seem so… well, _quirky_ , I suppose. But they seem to get stuck in these molds of what they're used to, and just seem to assume that anything different is either impossible or wrong in some way. I'm all for respecting and preserving traditions, but I have to admit that there are definitely parts of wizarding culture that is entirely counter-productive to our own goals. And yet they stubbornly hold onto them… of course, I don't deny that saying this makes me a hypocrite, but whatever. I've been called worse things."

"How does it make you a hypocrite?" Harry asked.

Tom rolled onto his side, laying in the air as if he were lying on a chase lounge with his arm out bent at the elbow and his hand propping up his hand, even though his elbow was on nothing but thin-air.

"Well, one of my arguments has long been for the restoration of a number of traditions that are part of wizarding life that have been delegated to the background, or wiped out entirely, out of respect for the muggleborn and their families. Traditions that seemed too backwards or odd, so the Ministry quietly pushed for them to be abandoned, for the sake of not offending those who were more accustomed to muggle life. I will reluctantly admit that I'm a proponent of wiping out certain traditions, simply because they've become more trouble than they're worth, or are causing actual detriment to our society. And yet there are other traditions that could be argued are just as backwards or irrational, and yet I would fight for their restoration entirely because the only reason they were gotten rid of in the first place was to appease the muggles - a motive I wholeheartedly disagree with."

"So you would preserve a stupid tradition, just because it makes muggles uncomfortable, but get rid of another stupid tradition because it's stupid, but _doesn't_ make any muggles uncomfortable?" Harry asked with incredulous humor.

"Like I said - I've been called worse things than hypocrite. And I won't argue with the label," Tom said with a dismissive shrug. Harry shook his head and chuckled fondly.

The two flew lazily for a few minutes more and Harry took a moment to perch himself on his broom, close his eyes and tilt his face up towards the sun, basking in the warmth of it's rays, and the contrasting chill of the breeze.

"This is nice," Tom said softly, drawing Harry's eyes open.

Harry smiled. "Yeah. It is."

"I can't remember the last time I did something like this. Just… relax. Just _fly_. I _can_ remember taking a sort of triumphant glee in flight when I first managed the spell, but I didn't really take time to just… enjoy the actual act of flight. I used it more as a means of intimidation, if anything."

"Intimidation?"

"Well, you yourself said it - it's not supposed to be possible." Tom smirked at Harry, who rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"Yeah, I guess you've got a point there. If I'd seen _Voldemort_ flying around without a broom, I'd probably be pretty freaked out."

"Which, admittedly, was the point. I didn't create this spell because I wanted to fly. I did it because everyone said it couldn't be done. _Lord Voldemort could do anything he wanted_ …" Tom said in a mocking sort of tone.

"Do you think that just anyone could learn to do that? The flying I mean?"

"Not just anyone, no," Tom said, shaking his head. He began to reduce his elevation and Harry angled his broom to follow. "It takes a great deal of focus and willpower, and a fairly powerful wizard, to perform and maintain the magic. Most people would have a great deal of trouble doing it for more than very brief spurts."

Harry chuckled. "And here you've been doing it for the better part of an hour."

Tom smirked at him and began descending more now, angling his body down and finally touching down in the long overgrown grass in the cottage's back garden.

Harry landed and dismounted his broom. "You really think I'd be able to do it too?"

"Of course," Tom said easily. "I can do it, I know you could do it."

"Just because we've got the same size of magical wells or whatever, doesn't mean I can do everything _you_ can do," Harry argued.

"You can do it, if you _learn_ _how_. If I teach you, you can do it."

Harry rolled his eyes, but had a momentary spark of excitement at the thought of actually being able to fly like that, even without his broom.

Tom paused and let his face bask in the sunlight, pulling in a slow, deep breath before sighing it out contentedly. "I'm so glad we did this."

Harry smiled warmly. "Yeah, me too. We should do it again."

Tom turned his face down and smiled sadly at Harry. "I'd like that… I just hope we have the chance."

"I'm not going to stop visiting you, just because Sirius is back," Harry insisted, sensing Tom's concerns. "That's not the only reason I'm here."

"Yes… the removal of your inhibitors was certainly also important. But you can continue your practice at Black's home when the two of you return there."

"No! Not that either," Harry said, coming to stand directly in front of Tom. "I'm not just here… for that," Harry ended weakly, not even sure what words to use to get what he was feeling across.

Tom stared into his eyes silently and his hand began to raise, seemingly of it's own accord, and he brushed the backs of his knuckles lightly across Harry's cheek. Harry's hand came up and grasped it, mid air, though he couldn't remember willing himself to do so. Harry's eyes slipped closed and he tilted his head, pressing Tom's hand gently between the side of his face and his hand that was loosely gripping it.

"Harry," Tom whispered in a breathy voice.

Harry opened his eyes and found that Tom was suddenly very close. Or maybe he'd been that close all along, and at the moment, Tom was all Harry could see.

"Tom," Harry found himself saying back, just as softly.

Tom's hand turned in Harry's and cupped Harry's jaw, letting the pad of his thumb rub gently over Harry's cheek.

"Tell me to stop," Tom whispered in an almost desperate tone.

"Stop?" Harry asked, dazed. His heart was racing in his chest and an excitement was building deep inside him. Fear and denial waged a war in the back of his mind, but he squashed them fiercely.

"Yes… tell me to stop," Tom said and his eyes seemed to have zero'd in on Harry's lips and he was leaning in.

Harry's lips parted wordlessly for a moment and his tongue darted out, wetting them subconsciously. "No," Harry said, pushing himself forward and meeting Tom half-way. "I won't," he said before their lips pressed together. Tom's hand threaded into Harry's hair and his other hand found its way to Harry's waist, holding him almost desperately as their mouths danced. Tom's lips parted almost as soon as the kiss started, and his tongue traced along Harry's lip.

At first Harry found he didn't know what to do, much more fearful now, of being a bad kisser, than when he'd kissed Cho, but then his mind seemed to turn itself off, and he just basked in the feeling. His lips parted and his head turned so he and Tom's lips lined up just right and a flood of want and need coursed its way through Harry like a wave crashing against a cliff. Heat filled him and aroused pleasure and excitement overwhelmed his senses.

Tom hummed almost desperately and their lips parted just long enough for him to moan out _"Harry,"_ before crashing back together.

Harry's arms didn't seem to know what to do for a moment, but finally they found their way to Tom's shoulders, and as Tom began to hold him and kiss him even more enthusiastically, and Harry felt himself lose more and more of his coherency to the flood of sensations, he stopped worrying about them and just held and hugged Tom back, pulling them together as much as Tom was.

The desperation slowly drained out and the kisses became more languid and Harry just basked in the amazing feeling and the delicious _need_ , curling its way through his groin. Speaking of which, he realized he was rock hard… and so was Tom. Harry gasped, pulling them apart for a moment, as Harry felt Tom's pelvis brush against his own in a very… _nice_ way.

Tom pulled back as well, and rest his forehead against Harry's forehead, as he panted and tried to calm down. Harry found he was doing the same, panting into Tom's face and clutching to his shoulders.

Tom's hand began to thread itself gently through Harry's hair, in a soothing motion, running his fingertips along Harry's scalp sending wonderful shivers down Harry's spine.

"I've wanted to do that…" Tom said breathlessly and paused to weakly chuckle, "for far too long, now."

Harry found himself smiling widely, despite how overwhelmed his mind felt.

Tom's expression turned serious and his hand moved down to cup the side of Harry's jaw again. "Are you sure, Harry? I… I mean, there's no arguing that I… want this. I do. But this is outrageously inappropriate. So… so _incredibly_ inappropriate. I… I shouldn't be doing this. I'm taking advantage of you —"

"What? No! How are you taking advantage of me!?" Harry asked, pulling back enough to look at Tom better. "What makes this so… _inappropriate!?_ "

Tom laughed weakly and sighed. "Harry… despite appearances, do not forget that I am _seventy years old_. You're not even _sixteen_ yet."

Harry scowled. "Well — I could argue that physically, you're younger than I am," Harry said, clearly not very confident in his argument. "This body of yours didn't even exist two years ago. And as for appearances, you're nearly the same age as me. And — _and_ \- our souls are technically the same age, right? I mean, my soul started from a bit of yours, and grew bigger, so at least part of my soul is seventy years old too."

"But _mentally_ , Harry. _Mentally_ , I'm much, _much_ older. I… my body… you're right that it's young. One year, or seventeen, however you look at it, I will admit that I can feel it's… youth. It's effecting me as well, I've definitely felt it. This body is so…. _hormonal_ , it's ridiculous." Tom let a weak chuckle out, shaking his head and leaning forward to rest his forehead against Harry's. "But I can't use that as an excuse. I'm so much older, I should be able to control myself. I should… I should be able to _squash_ this… this _need_ I feel… for you. It's… _wrong_."

Harry pulled back again, frowning deeply. "It feels awfully right to me," Harry said in a weak voice.

"It does," Tom whispered, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment and taking in a slow breath. "But Harry… how long until your hormones retreat enough for your mind to remember… to remember what I've _done_ to you?"

Harry let out a frustrated growl and stepped away fully now. "None of that matters!" Harry finally said, throwing his arms up in frustration. "I _don't care_ what you did when you were Voldemort! That's not who you are anymore!"

"You can't possibly expect me to believe that there isn't a single part of you disturbed by the _fact_ that I have personally eviscerated people, and _enjoyed it_. I've extracted a person's intestines while they watched, _still alive_ , and wrapped them around their neck and left their body on display for their family to find!"

"Shut up!" Harry said, shaking his head and turning around.

"You can't pretend that this will never bother you! That it won't always linger in the back of your mind!"

"Well, _sure_ , if you keep throwing it in my face, reminding me!" Harry shot back, turning to face him again. "Why can't you just let me forgive you!?" Harry yelled.

"I don't deserve forgiveness!" Tom yelled back, in a desperately strangled voice.

"Tom…" Harry whispered, staring at the other man who was now covering his face in one hand and turning away. Harry walked over and wrapped Tom in his arms, pulling him in close. Tom was stiff and unresponsive at first, but slowly melted into Harry's arms, finally wrapping his arms around Harry as well. Tom clung to him and buried his face in Harry's neck and shoulder.

"I'm not a good person, Harry," he whispered. "I'm better than I was… but I'm not a good person. You deserve someone better than this wreck of a man."

"You _are_ good," Harry said back, clutching at Tom's back.

"No, I'm not. I'm selfish and arrogant. I'm still too ambitious and dominating. I don't think I could stand to live my life in obscurity. I'll always strive for more, and I'm a control freak. I'm afraid I might lose myself again and not even see it happening. I'm afraid of _myself,_ Harry _._ I've got you fooled now, but someday you're going to wake up and see me for the monster that I am, and I'm afraid of what will happen if I lose you."

Harry pulled back just enough so that he could look Tom in the face. The other man kept his head bowed, unable to make eye contact, so Harry put his hands out on either side of Tom's face and forced him up.

"You're not a monster," Harry said in a firm voice, and put a finger over Tom's lips as he made to protest. "No. You're not. You're human, and humans are flawed. No one is perfect. You were less than human before, and you lost your soul to your ambition, but you've learned from that mistake, right? No matter what you say, I see goodness in you. I _know_ it's there, and it's not because you've got me _fooled_. I _see_ you, Tom Riddle. I _see you_."

Tom blinked at him seemingly somewhat stunned before closing his eyes and leaning his head forward again, into Harry's shoulder.

"I can't guarantee that this… whatever it is… will be perfect, or forever," Harry began again. "I mean, I have no idea what I'm doing," he laughed weakly and sighed. "I've never had a proper girlfriend before, let alone a _boyfriend_. I didn't even think… well, maybe a little… I don't know. I never really thought about it before. I barely cared about _girls_ , and I certainly wasn't letting myself think about _boys_ in… that way."

"You see, this is what I mean, Harry," Tom said shaking his head. "I'm taking advantage of your youth and inexperience. Our footing is too unequal… it's not right for someone my age —"

Harry put his finger over Tom's mouth again. "I don't want to hear it. You don't act like someone who is seventy years old, I don't care what you say! I honestly think that… your emotional development, or whatever, was _stunted_ by your horcruxes. Emotionally and psychologically, you stopped aging in your teens! Everything got all thrown out of whack because of that, and now you're just sort of flailing about, trying to relearn how to be human. And you might have all these decades of experience with magic and life, but how much real experience do you honestly have with relationships? I mean…" Harry faltered, suddenly wondering if he really wanted to know how many relationships Tom might have been involved in. What if it were hundreds?

Tom chuckled weakly and let his head fall forward, resting his ear against Harry's shoulder. "That's a very astute set of observations, Harry… perhaps, you've got a point. I often feel like… a child; lost in the woods with no idea what I'm doing or how to get out. I feel so overwhelmed by these emotions sometimes…" He sighed. "And you're right about the relationships thing. I only ever really had a couple relationships in my teen years, and they weren't… very _real_. By the time I'd made my third horcrux, my body began to change. I lost any and all desire for… physical pleasures. At some point I actually lost the ability to gain an erection at all…" Tom paused and made a face. "Perhaps that was oversharing…"

Harry laughed and wrapped one arm loosely over Tom's shoulder, while the other threaded into his soft black hair. "You didn't seem to have that problem a bit ago," Harry said, feeling his face heat up, and grinning.

Tom chuckled, his body shaking against Harry as they held each other. Tom pulled in a deep breath through his nose before slowly sighing it back out. "How ridiculous would it sound if I said I like the way you smell?"

Harry laughed and buried his face in Tom's hair. He hummed pleasantly. "Not ridiculous at all. I like the way you smell too."

Tom snorted. "Merlin, if you and I become blubbering romantic idiots, I just may have to put us out of our misery."

"If two people who share the same soul hook up, does that make them soul mates, or just participants in a very strange form of masterbation?"

"Did you seriously just ask me that?" Tom asked, pulling back and looking at Harry incredulous.

Harry laughed and shrugged unapologetically.

The two did finally drag themselves indoors, leaving Harry's Firebolt by the front door so they'd remember to take it back to Privet Drive when they left later. There was still about an hour and a half until the next step in the potion. When Harry asked Tom if there was anything he needed to be doing, Tom did mention some books he'd picked up recently that he needed to skim through for information on the Hallows.

"I could help," Harry offered. "Skim through them with you, I mean. For any mention of the Hallows."

Tom hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I'm certainly willing to accept your offer, but some of these books might not be the cleanest of reading material."

"Pornography?" Harry asked incredulous.

Tom sputtered and laughed. "No, Dark Magic! I suppose we know whose mind is in the gutter, today."

"You put it there," Harry said, smirking and walking past Tom through the sitting room towards the work room.

"Hang on, the books are in my bedroom. I was reading one in bed last night," Tom said, moving past Harry and going into the one door in the narrow hallway that Harry hadn't been through yet.

Harry stood in the hallway peaking in curiously as Tom entered his bedroom and walked over beside a large bed that filled the majority of the room, and grabbed a stack of books from a nightstand there.

"How about we read in the sitting room?" Harry proposed. "We're always sitting on those sodding stools in the kitchen, but the couch would be a lot more comfortable."

Tom gave him a narrow, suspicious look but his lips curled into a smile and he shrugged. "I won't argue with that."

The pair went into the sitting room and sat down beside each other on the couch, that was really more of a loveseat, as it wasn't very wide. The stack of books were left on the tea table in front of them and Tom grabbed one from the top. Harry skimmed the spines, trying to get a feel for what the books were, and frowned at the smallest one in the stack, slipping it out and giving it a curious look.

"This looks like some sort of children's fairy tales book." Harry said.

"Hmm? Oh yes, one of the books I found that did mention the Hallows made reference to a story told by Beedle the Bard. Apparently there's some fable in there that's relevant. I haven't checked it yet, though."

"Well, out of all of these, it seems the least likely to go on about the Dark Arts, so I'll poke my way through this one first."

Tom shrugged and put one of his long legs up on the tea table and crossed the other one over his knee, leaning back and getting comfortable with the book in his lap. Harry smiled at the relaxed posture and settled himself into a comfortable position as well, leaning against Tom's side.

The two read in comfortable silence, resting against each other until a small tweeting bird-shaped wisp of smoke started to fly around all of a sudden, making quite a racket.

"What the-?"

"It's a timer," Tom explained simply as he stood up, setting his book back down on the stack and waving his hand to vanish the little bird.

"Oh! The potion!" Harry exclaimed, jumping up and following Tom into the workroom.

Tom walked directly to the cupboard and brought out a small tray and set it on the table, opposite the large cauldron. Harry peaked over Tom to the tray and saw a series of small bowls, and a couple vials, each with a different substance in them.

Tom picked up the first one in the line, and let it drip slowly into the cauldron. The smoke over the boiling top began to twist and swirl, as if there were a small cyclone moving over it's surface. He set the empty bowl down and picked up the next one. This one was a powder, and Tom picked up a long polished copper rod that Harry realized was shaped like a long narrow spoon on one end. Tom poured the powder in very slowly and in a anti-clockwise direction as he stirred the rod in a clockwise direction. He did this slowly enough that Harry pulled out one of the stools and sat down.

Tom continued on in this vein, adding each of the prepared ingredients, one at a time until the tray was empty.

As the last one was added, Harry was surprised to see the contents of the cauldron that had been bubbling and frothing and swirling away, all this time, suddenly go perfectly still. The liquid inside now looked like the surface of a mirror - perfectly smooth, and with a chrome-like appearance. Tom grinned smugly.

"Perfect," he said, punctuating his word with a _t_ and setting the last empty vial back on the tray.

"Is that it?" Harry asked, anxiously.

"All done."

"And it's good?" Harry pressed.

"As I said," Tom said, turning and grinning at Harry, " _Perfect_. The potion will work, I'm 100% confident. Tomorrow, you will have your godfather back."

Harry crowed and jumped from his stool, rushing over and pulling Tom into a delighted embrace. Tom blinked at him, obviously startled, but then smiled gently and patted Harry's back, as the younger of the two squeezed Tom tightly.

"Thank you!" Harry said, "Thank you _so much_."

"Well, if you really want to thank me, I know of one thing you could do," Tom said in an almost playful tone. Harry pulled back, looking at him questioningly.

"What?"

"I'd like a kiss," Tom said, grinning playfully.

Harry laughed and didn't even hesitate as he pushed in, pressing his lips enthusiastically against Tom's. If anything, Tom was the surprised one, if the slightly startled squeak he made was any indication. It quickly morphed into a pleased hum. After a solid minute of languid kissing, Harry hesitantly pulled back, pulling in a breath. "I would gladly do that, whenever you want," he breathed out in an unintentionally husky voice.

Tom seemed to visibly shudder, and Harry was almost startled to see such desire in the other man's dark eyes. Tom looked down, grinning self-consciously a moment later. "I can't tell you how much I've been wrestling with myself over this attraction, for the last week or so."

"I'm not really sure when I started… feeling it," Harry admitted. "I never really nailed it down or… well, admitted it to myself, but looking back… I've definitely felt it too."

Tom smiled at him. "It got so much harder for me to ignore after absorbing the locket."

"Oh?"

"Yes… I suppose… well, I suppose my feelings have been a bit more _intense_ since then. Sometimes I feel like they're running away with me. But it was like going from nineteen down to a sixteen or seventeen year old body - and lets be honest here, I _do_ look more like 16 than 17 - it was as if it flipped some ridiculously bothersome hormone switch. _Merlin_ , you would not believe the dreams I've been having. It's been torture!"

Harry burst out laughing. Harry sighed happily, running his hand up and down Tom's arm and shoulder. "This is so unexpected, but I feel so stupidly happy about it."

"I'm happy too," Tom said in a soft voice as he leaned in and brushed his lips along the side of Harry's cheek, breathing on his ear and sending shivers down Harry's spine. Finally he pulled back and his gaze was drawn to the cauldron. "I rather doubt your godfather would be particularly happy about it though."

Harry grimaced. "No, I'm pretty sure he'd blow a gasket. But I guess this _is_ going to make sticking to our cover story easier… you did say people would probably assume that we were… you know, a couple, after hearing how we met."

"You're honestly okay with outing yourself to your friends?" Tom asked cautiously. "You weren't even convinced you were interested in men a week ago… I just worry you haven't really… _thought_ about this much."

Harry shook his head. "I've been thinking about it a lot, actually. Ever since first looking through that magazine, I've been… sort of questioning things. I just didn't want to admit it. I'm not convinced that I don't like girls too - I _did_ fancy Cho… or at least, I sure thought I did. But this… it just feels like it's so much _more_. I mean, I definitely _never_ felt anything like this before."

Tom gave him a soft smile and reached up, tucking a few stray hairs behind Harry's ear and then lightly threading his fingers through Harry's hair. "I've never felt anything like this before, either," he said softly before leaning in and placing a soft, gentle kiss on Harry's lips. This one was much slower and softer than the intense kisses of before, but Harry decided it was just as wonderful as the others had been. But then Tom pulled back, ducked his head and chuckled. Harry looked at him curiously.

"What?"

"You really might be onto something with the whole stunted emotional development theory of yours. I feel outrageously immature right now."

"What?" Harry said, laughing. "How so?"

Tom looked up at Harry through his fringe. "All I can seem to think about right now is how badly I want to take you back out to the sitting room and snog your face off."

Harry felt heat rush to his face, but also to his groin, and his heart rate jumped up again. "Can't say I find anything wrong with that idea," Harry managed to get out before his courage could leave him.

Tom's eyes were alight with daring and excitement. He pulled his lower lip in between his teeth and seemed to be fighting an internal battle for a moment before he released the lip and smiled deviously at Harry. "Come here, you," he nearly growled before pulling Harry in for an intense, but brief kiss before pulling away, grabbing Harry's hand, and practically dragging him from the room. Harry laughed and quickly raced to follow him.

— — — —


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

It was incredible. Harry really couldn't formulate words to describe how intense and amazing he felt. He'd certainly _never_ felt anything like this when thinking about Cho, or anyone else for that matter. The thought of actually _doing_ this with Cho wasn't even appealing, actually.

Whenever Seamus would pull out some new witch nudey mag he'd managed to get somehow, and the other boys would gather around to ogle the sensually moving, naked or mostly naked, witches contained within it's pages, Harry had to admit, he'd always felt a bit out of place. He'd always felt more uncomfortable and embarrassed than interested. Even with Cho, he'd sort of been going through the motions of how he thought a relationship was supposed to start.

Maybe he really was just gay? Or maybe his connection with Tom was just so unique and strong, that it made everything that much more intense. Of course, he could still be bi. But all of this was far too wordy for Harry to actually be contemplating at the moment. At the moment, he was mostly wrapped up in the sensations flooding his body as he and Tom basically tried to eat each other's faces off. There was no rhyme or reason to it, Harry just knew he wanted _more_ of that feeling. _More_ of Tom. They gripped at each other's shoulders and sides and occasionally even hair. Tom was more touchy and hesitated less, although Harry slowly built up the courage to let his hands start exploring Tom's clothed chest and shoulders more and more, and he found he just couldn't get enough of this new form of touch. Harry also discovered that having his neck sucked on felt _amazing_. Way more amazing than he would have ever expected.

And his _ear_ \- Tom's breath over his ear just sent the most sensational tingles down his spine, straight to his groin.

Tom definitely knew more about how this whole thing worked than Harry did, which made sense, obviously. Harry had never snogged anyone before. One very chaste kiss with Cho under some mistletoe was pretty limited experience indeed.

Harry had witnessed snogging in the common room on numerous occasions, and it had always looked rather cringeworthy or just generally made Harry feel awkward and uncomfortable. But that was mostly because he'd always felt like he was intruding upon something private, that he honestly wished they would take it somewhere else. Plus, it just looked kind of ridiculous. He'd always wondered what the appeal was, as two people spending an exorbitant amount of time tongue wrestling really didn't look like it would be interesting enough to keep them going so damn long, but suddenly he wasn't quite so confused by it.

Harry had no idea how long they'd been at it when the two finally pulled apart, panting. Harry felt like he'd pop if he kept going, but couldn't quite get there - plus the idea of _going there_ was still a bit terrifying and not something he was willing to do just yet.

Tom was hunched over a bit, towards Harry, resting his forehead on Harry's shoulder and panting. "We should stop," he rasped. "If we don't stop now, I don't think I'll be able to stop at all."

"Uh-heh… yeah," Harry said nervously, as a war was waged in him between anxious terror, and excited desire.

Tom raised his head and grinned up through his fringe at Harry before darting in and placing a chaste peck on Harry's lips. He pulled back completely then and stood up. He turned away from Harry and seemed to be adjusting his clothes, which were rumpled far more than usual. However, he actually _untucked_ his shirt, which Harry had never seen Tom do, as he usually looked overly posh in his dress. Tom seemed to be nervously shifting around until he pulled in a deep breath and faced Harry again. Harry had to fight the urge to press the heel of his palm against his groin as the throb of want was still very much a prominent focal point in his mind. He realized then why Tom had untucked his shirt, and couldn't help but grin.

"Uhm… so is there anything left to do with the potion tonight?" Harry asked, even though he already knew the answer was 'no'. Mostly he just felt the need to fill the silence with something distracting.

"No, it'll just have to sit, undisturbed, until tomorrow night," Tom answered. "I'll probably go back to the books," he motioned to the stack on the tea table from earlier, "The one I was reading seemed to be getting somewhere. I think it might have some good information, but there's a lot to wade through to find it."

"Ah. Yeah," Harry said. "The Beedle the Bard book is interesting, if not kind of weird. I did find the story though - it's called the Three Brothers. It never calls them Peverell or anything quite so obvious, but it does deal with three objects, a resurrection stone, a cloak, and an unbeatable wand. It doesn't say that they 'made' the objects though - in the story, the brothers are given the objects by Death. Not entirely sure if there's much value to the story, but you might want to give it a read."

Tom nodded, shifting awkwardly for a moment. "Would you like some tea?" he asked suddenly and Harry accepted.

After bringing the tea several minutes later, Tom did return to his book. Harry flipped a bit through one of the others, but found he just couldn't keep his mind focused enough to really delve into it.

"Hey, do you mind if I use the ring to summon Sirius?" Harry asked, his mood perking up at the idea. "I haven't called him out in a few days, and I'd like to tell him the good news."

"Hmm, yes I suppose that's fine," Tom said with a shrug.

Harry was already wearing the ring, as he'd taken to keeping it with him, so he quickly set to turning the stone and focusing on Sirius.

The ghostly figure of his godfather appeared a moment later and Harry excitedly began to tell Sirius about their finishing the prep for the resurrection potion. "All that's left now is the stuff that goes in during the actual ritual tomorrow," Harry was explaining.

"So you really think this is going to work, then?" Sirius asked, still sounding a bit hesitant and dubious.

"Tom says it's a done deal now," Harry said enthusiastically, nodding his head.

Sirius twisted up his face and looked distrustingly over at Tom, who was sitting on the small couch, reading a book and pointedly ignoring them.

"Hmfph… yeah," Sirius said, not sounding particularly enthused or convinced.

"So, I was thinking," Harry began, "I figure it'll probably take a couple days after you mysteriously reappear before things start to settle down for you. The Order will probably be all over you at first, and there might be some stuff that keeps you busy for a day or two, but… well, after that, how do you feel about me… you know, coming to Grimmauld Place? To stay with you?"

"Well, of course, Harry!" Sirius said, as if that were already a done deal. "If you want to come stay with me, then you're going to come stay with me. Just - I mean… you've been to the house. You know it's not exactly the most pleasant of places to be. It hasn't exactly improved much since you stayed there last summer."

"That's fine," Harry said dismissively. "Oh hey! Tom here says that your dad put wards on that house a while back that would block the Ministry's Trace signals and I'd be able to cast magic while in the house, if they're still there. Is that true?"

"Oh! Yeah, those are still there."

"Why didn't you say so last summer?!" Harry exclaimed.

"Well… honestly, Molly sort of… _insisted_."

"Pfft," Harry made an annoyed sort of noise and rolled his eyes. "Well, this time it'll be just you and me, and Lupin there, right? So who cares what Mrs. Weasley thinks."

Sirius grinned wolfishly and chuckled. "Sounds fine by me, pup."

"Oh and there's another thing I was thinking about last night. What with Professor Lupin there —"

Sirius laughed, " _Remus_ , Harry. Just call him Remus."

Harry ducked his head and shrugged, "It's still weird for me, okay? _Anyway_ , what with _Remus_ living there with us, I was thinking it might be kind of cool to see if I might be able to learn the animagus transformation. Then I could keep you and him company, during full moons."

Tom looked up from his book, his eyebrows raised. "You want to become an animagus?"

Harry looked over and gave a one-shouldered shrug. "I wanted to give it a shot. My dad was an animagus… have _you_ ever tried to become one?"

Tom went to open his mouth and respond when he paused suddenly and frowned. "I did," he said, eventually, "but it wasn't until my thirties that I thought to try, and it was an utter failure. But I wonder now if that failure was more related to my excessively damaged soul, than any incompatibility with the magic. It's a partially wandless spell, after all, and my wandless magic was obviously effected by my battered soul."

"You could try it again! We could try it together! That'd be kind of brilliant, actually!"

Sirius looked considerably less enthused with the prospect of teaching _Tom._ "Well, I can certainly teach you, Harry, but uhm… well, obviously _Tom_ can't come to the house, so…" he trailed off.

Tom looked amused. "I would hardly need you to _teach me_ , Black."

"Well, you tried to learn it yourself before and didn't have much luck," Sirius said, pointedly.

Tom shrugged, "And if it becomes obvious that it's still not going to work, than so-be-it."

Sirius made a slight roll of his eyes and returned his focus to Harry. "Anyway, it sounds like it could be a fun project for us. I'll definitely help you give it a shot."

Harry grinned. "Brilliant. So, other than that, I wanted to make sure you knew that I still plan to keep visiting Tom, during the summer."

Sirius' expression clouded and he twisted up his mouth disapprovingly. "You are?"

"Yeah, well… we're doing these exercises to get me used to my magic core being bigger —"

"You're magic core is the same size it's always been, you just have access to it all now," Tom corrected, before turning his attention fully back on his book.

"Yeah, what he said. Anyway, I obviously need the practice. I tried to use a stunning spell on a dummy and turned it to splinters. My spells are all _way_ over-powered now. Tom also wants to start me on non-verbal spells."

Sirius grumbled slightly but sighed. "Yeah, I suppose, although I have no idea what kind of trouble you might run up against with the Order, and I'm not going to go covering for you if you try slipping out in secret."

"Well, the Order already knows I'm coming here."

"How's that work anyway? You mentioned Dumbledore coming to visit at your relatives house —?" Sirius trailed off questioningly.

"Oh, yeah! I haven't told you our cover story yet!"

"Although honestly, it would be expected for him to be ignorant of it, upon his miraculous return from the veil," Tom pointed out, not taking his attention off of his book.

"Well, yeah, I guess so… but do you want me to go over it anyway?" Harry asked Sirius.

Sirius made a surrendering sort of shrugging gesture with his arms. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

Harry started to go over the story of Tom's history first - how his mum was a muggle who died shortly after birth, and his father had abandoned her without even realizing she was pregnant quite a few months before that, so Tom had grown up in the foster system until he ran away and lived on the streets for several years.

"Wait - so you're claiming to have grown up on the streets of South London?" Sirius asked, somewhat incredulously, looking at Tom.

"Yes?" Tom answered, the word coming out more as a question.

"I'm sorry, but you speak _way_ too posh to be someone who grew up in South London."

Tom smirked. "As a ma'ta ah fact, Sout Lond'n ees whe'h I ah-chly' grew up. An ah can affect tha ac'ent quie' eas'ly if ah wan' ta."

Harry barked out an incredulous laugh. "Merlin! Hearing you speak cockney is bizarre! Wait, you mean you _actually_ spoke like that as a kid?"

Tom looked skyward and sighed. "Yes, _I did_. It's one of the reasons my housemates so thoroughly looked down upon me when I first started at Hogwarts. As if having the stigma of being _muggleborn_ wasn't bad enough in Slytherin House, being _poor_ was probably even worse. I had managed to learn and adopt more of an estuary accent by age 10, but the deeply working-class South London and cockney seeped its way into my daily speech more often than I would like."

"Wait, what?" Sirius said, looking confused. " _Muggleborn?_ What are you two talking about?"

"Well, Tom's cover story works as well as it does because it's not actually that far from the truth. Except it was his mum who was the witch and his dad who was the muggle. But his dad did take off and abandon his mum, and she _did_ die right after his birth and he really _did_ grow up in a muggle orphanage."

Sirius looked incredulously over at Tom.

"I never lived on the streets, though," Tom added. "Orphanages had basically gone out of favor by the 80's, so I had to adjust the story to 'foster care'. Having run off and living on the streets would easily account for how I could have missed receiving my Hogwarts admission letter, and also makes it easier to explain away the relatively small identifying paper trail. Children's records are sealed until their eighteenth birthday, not that you couldn't magic your way into getting them _anyway_ , but I did get some forgeries into the muggle system for corroborating evidence. Just not a very substantial number of them."

"Wait, wait - so you're saying that when _you_ were a kid, your housemates thought that you were _muggleborn?"_ Sirius asked, incredulously.

"My last name was _Riddle_ for Merlin's sake," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "I had no family, no pedigree, no nothing. I grew up with muggles and knew nothing of the wizarding world until _Dumbledore_ came and delivered my Hogwarts letter. I was a halfbood but didn't learn _that_ until I was already in third year. Up until that point, I honestly thought I _was_ a muggleborn. Although, admittedly, I _desperately_ hoped I was wrong."

"And yet you went off on some crazed _kill all the muggleborn and enslave the muggles_ war?" Sirius exclaimed angrily.

Tom sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before he seemed ready to address Sirius' words. "I am far more than aware of the hypocrisy and lunacy of that, Black. You do not need to point it out to me."

"How the hell did you rationalize that? Going around, abducting and murdering muggleborn - if that had happened when _you_ were a kid, _you_ would have been one of the wizards rounded up for _extermination!"_

"I cannot provide you with a rationale for it Black. I don't honestly _know_. I… I can't even understand my own thought processes from back then. Looking back on those memories is not only quite horrific, it's also monumentally bewildering to me. There are times that I can hardly believe I was so out of my mind as to think and believe the things I did back then. But I did, and I have to live with that."

Sirius scoffed and sneered. "What about the people who _don't get to live_ because of that?"

Tom sighed heavily.

"Sirius, _please_ ," Harry almost _pleaded_ , looking at his ghostly godfather beseechingly.

Sirius huffed out a frustrated breath and turned around, facing the front window for a moment before he apparently felt like he could face them again.

"Fine, whatever. So your cover is that you were an orphan runaway, and you _can_ sound like one, but does that mean that you're going to speak like a South-Londoner around Harry's friends?"

"No, I'll sound just like this," Tom said. "My adopting a somewhat _posh_ Southern English accent is perfectly understandable given my desire to better my station in life. A thick working-class accent can easily hold a person back in life."

Sirius rolled his eyes skywards a bit and shrugged. "Fine, whatever. So I get all that stuff now, but that doesn't explain how Harry would have met you. I don't get that part."

"Ah… uhm, yeah…" Harry said awkwardly. "Okay, well, this is what I came up with —" and Harry went on to detail his accidental purchase of the magazine and how the article in it inspired the penpal idea. When Harry reached a stopping point, he looked at Sirius with an almost terrified worry, as the expression on the ghostly apparition's face was an obvious mix of incredulity and horror.

"But… people will hear that and assume that the two of you are —" he trailed off, grimacing deeply and curling his lip.

Harry sighed. " _I know,_ " he said.

"They'll also obviously think that you're - you know…"

"Gay?" Harry offered.

"Er - yeah," Sirius said sheepishly.

Harry frowned and looked down at the floor between his feet for a moment before looking back up. "I actually think I am. I mean, maybe I'm bi, but I'm not all that sure girls really do it for me. I think I tried fancying some just because that's what was expected."

"Oh…" Sirius said, appearing rather stunned. He looked over at Tom then, clearly hoping to escape from the discomfort of his faux pas with Harry, "Well, what about you? You really don't mind people thinking you're gay?"

"I _am_ gay," Tom said in an unimpressed tone, not looking up from his book as he flipped to the next page.

"Hu-what!?" Sirius barked out an incredulous coughing laugh. " _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named_ is _gay!?"_

"My sexuality is hardly relevant in regards to my previously psychopathic tendencies," Tom sneered, still sounding entirely unimpressed.

"Er, right," Sirius said, finally sounding somewhat abashed and looking at Harry apologetically.

"Sirius… you know, if you want to change your mind about me staying with you —" Harry started to say.

"Harry, don't be _absurd_ ," Sirius cut him off abruptly.

"I just —"

"No. Don't you dare finish that sentence. I'm going to be here for you, no matter what… assuming of course, your crazy plan actually works and I come back to life… but even if not, you've got this crazy ring of yours, and you can call me up whenever. And nothing is going to change the fact that I will _always_ be on your side."

Harry gave Sirius a shy sort of smile, ducking his head and shrugging. "Thanks," he said quietly.

The two went on talking for several minutes longer, with Harry filling Sirius in on a number of different things that had happened since the last time he'd called Sirius out with the ring. Their conversation was running down, and Harry was about to let Sirius go when Tom stiffened.

"I guess I'll be seeing you tomorrow," Harry was saying with a grin as he began to reach for the ring.

"Alright pup. See you —"

"Wait!" Tom said sharply, drawing both of their attention. His eyes were locked on a page in the book he had before him and he placed his finger on the page in a certain place while reaching over with his other hand to one of the other books on the tea table. He flipped it open with one hand and quickly found another page, read something before going back to the first book. Harry looked at him curiously.

"What —?"

Tom held up a hand, silencing Harry. Then he made a little hand gesture and a piece of parchment, ink well, and quill pen flew over and came to rest on the tea table. Tom kept the book now balanced on his thigh with his finger firmly in place somewhere, while bending forward and scribbling a series of symbols that Harry was only vaguely familiar with being associated with arithmancy.

"Shit," he muttered a second later as he seemed to have come to some sort of conclusion.

"What?!" Harry said again, but more urgent this time.

"Harry, how many times have you used the ring to summon Sirius?"

Harry floundered for a moment before beginning to count on his fingers. "Uh… the first day I summoned him twice, then again about four days later, and again on the day we went to Grimmauld Place and I got the bloody bandages and the locket. Um, the night after we did our first spell practice downstairs, and then tonight. So that's six," Harry finished, now holding up six fingers.

"You're sure?" Tom pressed. "Not seven?"

Harry looked worriedly at Tom and tried to wrack his brain to remember if there was anything he was forgetting. "Yes, I'm sure," he said, finally. " _Why_? What's going on?"

"I've come across a mention of the rings _price,"_ Tom grumbled. "It eats away at the soul's ability to tether to this world. A soul can be reused, by general Necomantic Lore, and after they've been dead long enough and have shrunk down or some such idea, they get drawn back into a newly forming body. But without this theoretical 'tether' between the spirit realm and the physical realm, their soul can never return to our plain again. Apparently this is why my ancestor summoned his wife and _kept her_ with him, always, rather than bringing her in for brief visits, as you've been doing. It's what made her so miserable and what drove him mad."

Harry was looking at Tom with wide, almost terrified eyes. "Wait, so what does this mean for us?" Harry asked, looking worriedly over at Sirius.

"A necromancer from the 15th century studied the ring at the behest of whichever of my ancestors owned it at that time. He put a formula down for determining the amount of decay that would be necessary to destroy the tether, and how much of this energy the ring drew upon each time used. It took into account how long the spirit was kept in our world - you never went beyond 30 minutes, right?"

"No, never," Harry said emphatically.

"And that second time, when you summoned him into your room after returning home, he was only with you for a few minutes, right?"

"Right."

"Then by my calculations, _seven_ times is the maximum number of times that Sirius could be summoned before he could never be summoned again. Given that we're at six, it's definitely not worth the risk. We should keep him with us until the ritual. You _cannot_ release him tonight. Fortunately, the ritual is tomorrow, so he won't be trapped here like this long."

"Is this going to effect the ritual at all?" Harry asked, fear bleeding into his voice.

"No," Tom said with a firm shake of his head. "We have him here with us now, and that's all that matters. He'll still be with us tomorrow night when we perform the ritual, and then he'll be tethered to that body until it dies, just as is normal."

"But if the ring has been eating away at the tether, will it be a weak connection to the body?" Sirius asked.

"No, the energy drain happens when the soul _returns_ from a visit, and it's only upon the return to the spirit plane that the tether can be destroyed. Now by the notes of Roger Bolingbroke, the Necromancer my ancestor had consulted to research the ring, he wagers that the tether, much like the soul, is capable of healing itself, given the opportunity. But if the tether is completely destroyed, that's it. So long as Sirius stays with us, through the ritual and the attaching of his tether to his new body, he won't be returning to the spirit plane when this damage could be inflicted upon him. And while he lives his life, the tether can recover from the damage already inflicted."

"Merlin, I hope so," Harry whispered in a worried voice. "Argh, I _knew_ I shouldn't use the ring so much. I _knew_ there was no way there wouldn't be a price!"

"Harry, you can't blame yourself," Sirius said, firmly.

"One more use and you would have been gone for good! I almost got you _double-_ killed. As if the Ministry debacle wasn't bad enough!"

"Harry, you are _not_ to blame for that! _I am!_ " Tom said in a loud, firm, tone, drawing Harry's surprised gaze, as the outburst had been rather unexpected.

"I don't blame you," Harry said in a small voice, shaking his head glumly now, as he seemed to visibly deflate where he sat.

"Well you damn well should," Tom scoffed. "I sent a false vision of your godfather _being tortured_ in the Ministry, directly _into your mind_. Just so that you'd come there to rescue him. I think that makes it pretty damned obvious where the blame for this rests."

"Exactly," Sirius agreed with a nod of his head. "It's _obviously_ his fault."

Harry looked up and glared slightly at Sirius who just huffed out a breath and folded his arms across his translucent chest.

"You hold no blame here, in any of this," Tom said in a gentler tone, directly to Harry as he sat forward and placed his hand on Harry's knee. "Even the ring. If anything, that's my fault too. I should have dug deeper sooner than this to try and understand what it cost to use."

"I think _he's_ right," Sirius said with a satisfied nod. "Just saying…"

"Sirius, _please_ ," Harry groaned in annoyance. "I get that you're not exactly a fan of Tom's, but he _is_ bringing you back from the dead tomorrow, maybe you could try to be a _little_ nicer to him?"

"You want me to be _nice_ … to _him?"_ Sirius said incredulously with a bark of laughter. _"_ The man who killed my best friend and his wife. The man who —"

"Sirius, damn it!" Harry said very loudly, banging his fist on the tea table, making everyone jump a bit in surprise. "If _I_ can forgive him, for killing _my parents_ , then do you think you could at least _try_ to be civil?"

Sirius let out a resigned sigh, partially rolling his eyes, but he nodded. " _Fine_ , Harry. But I'm only doing this for you," he said petulantly.

"Thank you," Harry said tiredly.

Tom heaved out a heavy sigh and pushed himself up from the couch. "I'm going into the work room to gather some things. Feel free to talk more comfortably in my absence. Harry, we should be getting you back to Privet Drive soon. Let me know when you're ready."

"Tom —" Harry began to protest. Tom turned and gave him a soft smile.

"It's okay," was all Tom said before heading down the hallway and through the doorway into the workroom, closing the door behind him.

Harry turned his suddenly very firm gaze on Sirius. "You'd better behave better when you're back and alive. _He's not going anywhere_. He's part of my life now, and if you can't —"

"Harry, don't - I get it," Sirius said with a heavy sigh. "I'll _try. Okay?"_

Harry and Sirius did talk for a brief time after that, but Harry eventually called an end to it, realizing he really did have to get back to Privet Drive.

It was determined that Sirius and the ring should remain at Tom's cottage. Tom wasn't sure what exactly would happen if Harry took the ring with him, but he rather doubted that Sirius would be able to go with him, as ghost travel didn't work that way, and a ghost was the closest parallel they had for Sirius in this spirit form.

Harry cautiously removed the ring, terrified that removing it would be enough to send Sirius back, but it didn't.

"You have to _will_ him to be released, and turn the stone in it's setting," Tom had said, trying to reassure him, and it appeared he was right.

Finally the two left Sirius in the sitting room of the cottage and walked outside beyond the wards and disapparated.

They appeared in the park and began walking towards Privet Drive.

"Aside from the bombshell at the end, I had a really nice day," Harry said softly.

Tom smiled over at him. "Same here. And Sirius will be fine. He only has to tolerate being in my home for about 24 hours, and I can't kill him out of frustration, as he's already dead."

Harry chuckled despite himself.

Harry felt something brush up against his hand and found Tom's fingers hesitantly touching his hand. Harry let his own fingers interweave with Tom's more, who then made to completely hold Harry's hand.

Harry couldn't help the smile on his face. He gave Tom a hesitant side-ways glance and saw that the corner of the other man's mouth was turned up.

They were only a few houses down from Privet Drive when Tom slowed his pace suddenly and let Harry's hand go.

"An Order member is over there, under that tree," Tom pointed with his now free hand.

"Oh yeah?" Harry asked, only mildly interested at this point. If anything, their continued stalking of his relatives house was just annoying now.

Harry waved over at the invisible person under the tree before grabbing Tom's hand again, more firmly this time, and pushing forward. But Tom held him back after a handful of steps, making Harry turn and frown at him in confusion.

"They're coming over," Tom said, and Harry looked back towards the tree. He could see the shimmering distortion of a person moving while under a disillusionment spell. And then, just like that, the person became visible and came to stop on the sidewalk before Harry.

"Professor Lupin!" Harry said, surprised.

Remus chuckled and shook his head. "Harry, how many times do I have to say it - I'm not your Professor anymore."

Harry rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Right, right. Erm… Remus?"

"Sounds like a good option to me," Remus said with a smile.

"So… what are you doing?" Harry asked, surprised mostly because this was the first time anyone from the Order has been courteous enough to actually stop and visit.

"Well - I… honestly I wanted to check on you. See how you were doing. When Dumbledore told us that you had opted to _stay here_ instead of going to the Burrow, I was quite surprised," Remus said to Harry before surreptitiously glancing at Tom standing beside him.

"Oh, uh, Pro - _Remus_ , this is Thomlyn Moore," Harry said, motioning towards Tom beside him. "Thomlyn, this is Remus Lupin. He was one of my dad's friends."

Remus reached out and he and Tom shook hands briefly. "You were also Harry's Defense Professor in his third year, isn't that right?" Tom asked.

"Yes, that's right," Remus responded.

"So, did Professor Dumbledore uhm… tell you anything about Thomlyn after he visited?" Harry asked.

"Well, he did say that he'd done a thorough background check and felt no reason to discourage your friendship. I have to admit, I'm still a bit lost as to how the two of you might have met, though, and I suppose I was just… well, worried. I wanted to make sure you were alright, for myself. Fred and George had no idea who your friend might be, and when asked, Ron was clueless as well…" Remus trailed off, leaving the unasked question hanging in the air.

Harry looked over at Tom, then at some spot in the distance with a look of determination forming on his face. Finally he turned his gaze fully on Remus, swallowed thickly and gave a firm nod. "Back in January I found out about this penpal service for gay teens who need a support system, and someone to talk to who understands and have gone through the same sorts of stuff. It's totally anonymous, and you have no idea who you've been matched with unless the two of you decide to reveal your identities. Tom had no idea who I was for months, and I kept any obvious stuff out of our letters. We just talked and it helped me loads to come to terms with some stuff. But, you know - I was still kind of terrified how anyone would react if they found out, so I kept it secret… even from Ron and Hermione, which I feel bad for now, but I had so much going on besides this…"

Remus' eyebrows had risen considerably into his forehead upon mention of the _penpal service for gay teens_ , but by the time Harry had stopped talking, his face was far more compassionate than surprised.

"Oh, Harry… Thank you. I'm really glad that you decided that you could tell me this now, I do feel like I understand a lot better now," Remus said, nodding his head slowly.

Harry let a soft grin spread across his face. "Yeah, well… I feel like I've sort of come to terms with some stuff lately. Plus Tom- _Thomlyn_ , helped me a lot… after Sirius I mean. I was… very alone. I needed someone, and he came."

Remus nodded and smiled gently before looking over at Tom and giving him a small approving smile.

"One thing I don't understand, however, is why you'd still choose to stay here, rather than going to the Burrow?" Remus went on a moment later. "Is it that you're still afraid to tell the Weasley's?

"I - well, kind of, yeah. I have no idea how they'll react to… _that_. Some people can seem super-normal, but bring up homosexuality, and all bets are off. It's a gamble of who will be okay with it, I think."

Remus chuckled. "Harry, didn't you know that Charlie's gay?"

Harry blinked. "Say what?"

"Charlie. He's gay. He's even got a boyfriend out on that dragon reserve he works on."

"Oh." Harry said, rather stunned by this revelation.

"So, if that's what you're worried about, _don't be_." Remus pressed on.

Harry ducked and shrugged. "Well… yeah, okay. I'll keep that in mind." He paused and actually thought about it for a moment. "Actually, yeah, that does kind of take a weight off. I mean, I'm sure Hermione will be okay with it, but I really had no idea how Ron would react."

"That actually is probably quite a weight off your shoulders," Tom remarked, thoughtfully.

Harry gave him a small grin and returned his focus to Remus.

"Yeah, well, other than _that_ , I also figured that if I went and stayed at the Burrow, I wouldn't be able to visit Thomlyn every day, anymore."

"Ah," Remus said with an understanding tone and a nod of his head. "Molly can be quite protective and dominating. I can see how she might not want you leaving the Burrow unsupervised."

Harry nodded. "Exactly."

"Hmm.. Harry, I wonder, would you mind if I spoke to Molly and Arthur about this? To help them understand, I mean. I'm sure Molly could be convinced to allow frequent visits with Thomlyn, and I already know she's willing to let him come visit. She said so after Dumbledore said the background check had gone well."

"Oh.. well…" Harry faltered.

"Only Molly and Arthur. I'll leave Ron and the other's to you to tell when you're ready," Remus added quickly.

Harry thought about it for a second before heaving out a slow breath and nodding. "Yeah, okay. You can tell them."

Remus smiled and nodded. "Thank you Harry. We all just want to help. We care about you, you know. Which reminds me, there was one other thing I wanted to ask you before I go. How are you? Are you… coping?"

Harry blinked at him in mild confusion for a moment.

"Sirius," Tom said under his breath.

"Oh! Yeah, um… I mean, it's still hard. For a while I was having nightmares every night; seeing him fall through that veil again and again…"

"Oh, Harry…" Remus said in a sympathetic voice.

"But I'm dealing better now. Really," Harry said, reassuringly.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. I want you to know you can come to me, or the Weasley's, or Tonks, if there's anything at all that you need."

"Can I really?" Harry asked dubiously. "Because, as far as I can tell, I'm on an owl-post black out. No one writes me anything, and even the things I ordered to be delivered, like the Prophet, seem blocked."

Remus frowned. "Well… there are some fairly valid concerns here. A subscription to the Prophet would be especially easy to track, and we already suspect that You Know Who has at least one or two people working on the inside at the Prophet. Also, since Ron and Hermione are known to be close friends of yours, if someone was trying very hard to find you, watching their post would be a prime spot to start."

Harry huffed and rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know."

"That does remind me, though - how was is that you two communicated? I thought you said that Umbridge woman was stealing your mail last year?" Remus asked, looking between Harry and Tom.

"The penpal service provides the two parties with matching exchange boxes. They work like miniature vanishing cabinets," Tom explained. "I can put a letter in my box, slide the lid shut, and it's instantly transferred to Harry's box."

"Really? Merlin, that's rather brilliant, isn't it?" Remus mused.

"It's how they keep it anonymous. If you used traditional post you would _have_ to know the recipient's name and address to even write them."

"Right, good point. Ah, I suppose I am keeping you too long, aren't I? I should let you get back home. We really shouldn't stand out here talking this much."

Harry rolled his eyes at that but nodded. "Right, fine."

"I'll see you again, Harry. It was a pleasure meeting you Thomlyn."

"Pleasure is all mine," Tom replied politely with a small dip of his head. Remus smiled at them and crossed the street, back towards the tree he'd been perched under before and eventually disappearing.

Harry sighed. "It really weirds me out to think that there's always someone stationed out here, watching me."

"If it's any comfort, they probably think what they're doing should make you feel safer," Tom offered. "Plus, they seem to think of themselves as 'watching the neighborhood for suspicious activities' rather than, 'watching _you_ '. Again, it's all semantics."

"When did you become such a level-headed mediator?" Harry said with a small grin before he sighed and resumed their earlier trek towards Number 4.

"I believe that would be the day I dealt with my diary. But I was quite the diplomat when I wanted to be, in my early years."

They finally reached the front garden of Number 4 and Harry paused, turned and faced Tom, somewhat nervously. "So… I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"Of course," Tom said with a chuckle and a smirk. "It's a big day, after all. So should I just take the initiative and give you a kiss? I know you want one."

Harry's face went red and he guffawed. "Not much one for beating around the bush, are you?"

"Didn't see the point. I'd very much like one too, I just wasn't sure that was something you'd be willing to do out here in suburban-muggle-hell."

Harry snickered before leaning forward. "I don't give a damn what they think, anymore. In a few days, I'll be out of here, and I hope to never come back."

Tom smiled. "If you want to get away from this place, I'll gladly rescue you. But at the very least, I'll fight tooth and nail to make sure no one ever tries to force you back."

Harry smiled, surprised by just how reassuring that felt. And then they were kissing. It was chaste in comparison to the snogging from earlier, but it was slow and sensual, and wonderful. They broke apart and Harry sighed happily.

"Good night, Harry," Tom said softly.

"Good night."

— —

"You took a while," Sirius complained as Tom entered his cottage.

"We ran into Lupin outside Harry's house," Tom replied dismissively.

"Remus? Why? What'd he want?"

"Just curious for details. Dumbledore had, as usual, relayed the bare minimum of information to the Order in regards to the situation with Harry, and left it at that with no apparent room for questions. So all Lupin knew was that one, Harry chose to stay at Privet Drive - red flag number one, for anyone who knows him, and two, that Dumbledore did a thorough background check on me, and saw nothing wrong. He didn't relay any of the details we supplied Dumbledore for our cover story. Lupin was worried there was something more going on, and wanted to help if needed."

"Oh," Sirius said in a somewhat deflated tone. "So what did you tell him?"

"Harry gave him the cover story you and he discussed earlier. Not in thorough detail, since we _were_ standing outside and exposed on the side of the road, and we didn't want to stay there too long, but he got the gist of it, and Harry will no doubt have an opportunity to fill in details later this week when he goes to stay at your family home, after you _mysteriously_ reappear."

"Hm… That doesn't bother you?"

Tom blinked at him. "Which part would bother me?"

"Harry coming to stay with me."

"No. Why would that bother me? It's a hell of a lot better than staying with those damned muggles, and while I'm sure the Weasley's home is very welcoming to him, it is rather dilapidated and as I understand it, the family is already under substantial financial burden. Harry worries about what his presence in their house is costing them, and it causes him guilt, which he doesn't need."

Sirius' face twisted up and he continued to glare somewhat at Tom. "You know his relatives aren't such a rotten bunch, because they're muggles, right? You're not trying to fill his head with all your muggle-hate, are you?"

Tom scoffed. "My bias does not make me a complete idiot, Black. I'm perfectly aware that _people_ are trash, and 'people' includes both muggles and wizards. Harry's relatives are scum of their own accord. Hell, if they _were_ wizards, they would probably lean towards and aspire to be like the political conservative families, like the Malfoys, and would probably have no reticence in hating muggles, themselves. They obviously suffer from the strong tendency to place your group on a pedestal, and every other group, in the gutter.

" _However_ , I will fully accept my own hypocrisy and admit, that I quite dislike muggle culture, muggle society, and muggles en mass. Of course individual muggles can be perfectly reasonable people. But when you get a large _group_ of muggles in one place, their tendency is to fall back on hysteria and ignorance. I prefer a clean separation between us and them. But am I trying to influence Harry towards this line of thinking? No, we've barely discussed it. We had _one_ discussion on politics, the first day I came to him, and have had no discussions on it since."

"Trying to hide your nasty side, so Harry doesn't see it?" Sirius sneered.

"I am _not_ hiding my 'nasty side' from Harry. If anything, he's seen more of it than anyone else," Tom said with an annoyed sigh. "Is this going to continue all night?"

"Is what going to continue?"

"This interrogation of yours. If so, I'd like to at least get comfortable and get some tea."

Sirius rolled his eyes and folded his arms over his chest. "Be my guest," he said sarcastically.

Tom shook his head skywards before heading into the work room for one of those rare instances he actually used it for the kitchen it was intended to be. He got himself some tea fixed up with too much milk and sugar - a habit he was picking up from Harry - and put it on the heavy wooden table before sitting on one of the stools and grabbing some of his books and notes. Sirius had followed him into the room, floating through the door, some several minutes after it became obvious that Tom wasn't coming back out to the sitting room.

Sirius peered around at the various ingredients on the shelves and herbs hung along the walls, before floating over and peering into the large cauldron. The surface was still perfectly calm and as reflective as glass, even though a small controlled fire still burned beneath it.

"Make sure you don't touch it. I'm not sure how it would react to ectoplasm," Tom warned.

Sirius looked down at himself. "Do I _have_ ectoplasm? I'm not a normal ghost."

"I have no idea, but I'd rather not risk it. I spent a great deal of time and effort on that potion and I would prefer to not have to start over."

"You sure about that? Wouldn't that just give you a new excuse to keep Harry around?" Sirius sneered again.

"I've got plenty of reasons for Harry to keep coming back, if he wants to keep coming back," Tom said dismissively, keeping his eyes and focus primarily trained the book in front of him. He reached to the side and picked up his tea cup, blowing lightly on it before taking a sip and setting it back down.

"Yeah? Okay, like what? What excuses do you have that makes Harry want to keep coming here?"

"Well, I intend to teach him occlumency," Tom said, "and we're still working on his repetitive magic casting drills, so his body learns the correct amount of power he needs to complete his spells without excessively over-powering them. He's not actually too fond of that - he gets bored of the drills quickly," Tom smirked to himself, still keeping his focus trained on the page.

Sirius snorted. "Snivelus tried to teach him occlumency and _that_ was a nightmare for him."

"Severus was not trying to teach him occlumency, Severus was intentionally ripping Harry's natural defenses to shreds, so he would be more susceptible to my mental intrusion."

"Oh yeah, I bet you put him up to that."

"I did not. I didn't even know he'd done it," Tom said, finally looking up and pinning Sirius with a glare. "He could have easily told me as well, to 'gain favor' and make it look like he was playing the double-agent, but he did not. He never told me Dumbledore had him teaching Harry occlumency and he certainly never told me that rather than teach it, he was shredding the boys mind."

"Why?"

"Even I do not understand the inner-workings of that man's mind," Tom sighed, turning his attention back to the book. "He must have had some other motive for keeping it secret. It was too prime an opportunity to try and gain more of my trust."

"So you don't think that Snape was really working for you and spying on Dumbledore?" Sirius asked, honestly curious.

"No. I'm fairly confident that Snape was never _my man_. At least, not since the last war. If he belongs to anyone, it's Dumbledore. But to some extent, I suspect that Severus is only truly loyal _to Severus_. He's put his lot in with Dumbledore for reasons I do not know of."

"Maybe he just realizes that your a crazy nutter, hell bent on destroying the world," Sirius grumbled.

"I know you don't have any intention to believe a word I say, but I honestly have no desire to destroy _anything_ anymore," Tom said with a tired sigh. "As for Severus realizing my insanity - I have no doubt of that. Anyone who spent even a modicum of time in my presence could see that I'd lost my mind. But I doubt that would be his motivation for turning on me. Severus would not risk his neck to 'save the world'. He would only risk his neck to save himself, or for his own personal reasons."

Sirius snorted. "Well, on that, I guess we can agree."

— —


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Remus set his cup down on the table and gave Molly Weasley a thankful smile. She bustled around the Burrow's kitchen for a moment longer before finally sitting down next to Arthur, in front of her own cup of tea that she'd placed there moments earlier.

It was bright and warm and the sun was streaming in through the windows with a gentle breeze blowing the lace curtains about.

"So you spoke with Harry last night?" Arthur asked curiously.

"Yes, I did," Remus confirmed with a nod of his head.

"How is the dear? I've been so worried about him," Molly said.

"He actually seems to be doing quite well, although I only saw him for a brief time. He was walking back home with Thomlyn when I caught him, actually."

"Thomlyn is this boy he's been seen with?" Molly asked.

"That's right. Thomlyn Moore is his name."

"Hmmm… I don't know any Moore's… did you discover how it was that Harry met this boy?"

"As a matter of fact, I did. But first, and foremost, Harry revealed something to me that he has no doubt been struggling with for quite some time. He even kept it secret from Ron and Hermione."

Molly's eyes widened and she leaned in curiously. "And he said you could tell us?" she asked cautiously, clearly both very curious, and yet also not wanting Remus to breach Harry's trust.

"I asked him if I could discuss it with you and he said I could, on the condition that I only tell you, not Ron. Harry wants to tell his friends himself."

Molly nodded. "Perfectly reasonable."

"So what is it?" Arthur asked.

Remus sat back in his chair a bit and gave them a lopsided grin, "Harry's gay."

Molly blinked at him. "That's it?"

Remus chuckled. "That's it. But honestly, look at it from his point of view - you can imagine how terrifying dealing with that sort of realization would be, when he was already under so much stress and scrutiny?"

Molly hummed and nodded her head in understanding.

"So - wait, does that mean this Thomlyn boy is Harry's _boyfriend?"_ Arthur asked as a suddenly dawning light seemed to flicker behind his eyes.

"If the kiss they shared last night on Harry's doorstep is any indication, then yes, I would say they seem to be dating," Remus said with a chuckle.

"But how did they meet?" Molly asked, somewhat incredulously.

Remus went on to describe what he'd come to understand of the penpal service, and how Harry had signed up for it back in January.

"So this _has_ been going on a while, then," Arthur said.

Remus understood that sentiment. Remus himself had been extremely confused by the notion that Harry would suddenly trust someone he'd known for so little time, since there had been no sign that Harry could have met this boy back at Hogwarts."

"And his fear of how people would react if he were outed was the reason he hid it from Ron," Mrs. Weasley said with a dawning understanding. "Didn't he know Ron wouldn't judge him for that!?"

"Actually, Harry had no idea about Charlie until I told him last night. I rather doubt homosexuality comes up in a positive light, all that often in dorm chatter. It certainly never did when I was a student. If anything, it was usually used in joking derogatory comments and insults. Even if the other boys don't mean any harm by it, it would still be hard on someone, in the closet, as it were. I can certainly understand why Harry would keep this secret from his friends."

"But he intends to tell them now?" Molly asked.

"It certainly sounds that way. So that brings me to the primary reason I came here - I think that the main reason Harry has been hesitant in leaving his relatives home is that he fears he won't get to see Thomlyn much, if he were to come here. As is, we know that Harry's spent every day for more than a week with Thomlyn, so it would be quite a contrast to suddenly find himself confined to the Burrow."

Molly frowned in thought for a moment. "What do we know about this Thomlyn boy's parents? Are they supervised where ever it is that they're running off to?"

"I honestly don't know," Remus shook his head.

"Hmfph, well, I suppose I would be alright with letting Harry continue to visit his friend, although I'd certainly like him back at the Burrow more often than he's been at his relatives house."

"Yes, but I suspect he's been avoiding being at his relatives house for reasons other than just spending time with his boyfriend," Arthur added.

Molly made a bit of a face, showing just how much she disapproved of Harry's relatives, but didn't say anything aloud.

"After all, Albus allowed Harry to keep going to visit him, so I suppose that says something. And of course, Thomlyn would be more than welcome to visit the Burrow!" Molly concluded.

Lupin grinned, "That's what I told him you'd probably say. I'll try to pay him another visit in a day or two and let him know. We'll see if he'll reconsider coming to stay."

"I do hope he'll consider it. I really worry about him as things stand right now. No supervision as far as we know, and Merlin knows where he's been spending his days with this boy. At least this way we can have a better idea and have a better shot and actually keeping him safe. This is _hardly_ the time to be taking Harry's security lightly, what with You Know Who having been spotted at the Ministry…"

"Yes, although it is odd that he hasn't been seen since then," Arthur mused.

"That much more reason to worry! We have _no idea_ what he might be planning!" Molly insisted.

"Well, I'll definitely try to get back to Surrey and pay Harry a visit, soon," Remus said with a nod. "I'm sure he'll come once he realizes his fears are unfounded."

— —

"So how is the ownership thing going to work? I mean, since I inherited all your stuff?" Harry was asking Sirius as they followed Tom out of the house. Tom had his wand out, carefully directing the large cauldron that was floating through the air before him.

Tom went out the front door, guiding the cauldron before him and out beyond the garden to the field behind the cottage. A large space of grass had already been cleared and a small table was set on the ground and Harry could see a selection of ingredients already laid out there. The cauldron was the last piece to be moved. Tom had insisted this was a simple step, but Harry couldn't help but feel nervous.

"The will was magically activated when my death was detected," Sirius was explaining. "What will happen when I'm no longer dead - I don't know." He shrugged. "It might suddenly recognize that I'm not dead, and ownership will revert to me, or it might not."

"How would we transfer it back to you, if it doesn't recognize on it's own?"

Sirius waved his hand dismissively. "It hardly matters, Harry."

"Yes it does," Harry insisted, somewhat aggravated. "I don't want to be the owner of your house."

"And my vaults," Sirius added with a grin.

"Yeah! That's _your_ money. I've got my own money. I don't want yours. You'll need it."

"It's not like I get a lot of opportunities to spend it," Sirius remarked dryly.

"Sure, but hopefully we'll be able to get you cleared soon, and then you'll want your stuff back," Harry persisted.

Tom had set the cauldron down in the cleared circle and began double-checking the things on the table. Harry looked at it now and grimaced as the fetal-shaped object, wrapped in cloth. Harry sort of hoped Sirius wouldn't have to see the proto-homunculus, and he definitely didn't what his godfather to know it had one of Orion Black's rib bones inside it.

"So how's this going to work?" Sirius asked, turning his focus on Tom now.

"I will put in the last few ingredients, speak an incantation that will attach your soul to the homunculus I have already prepared. Then we will begin ritual. Several more items will go into the potion during the ritual, then I will drop the homunculus in the cauldron, and it will be transformed into your fully formed body. Oh, and you will be naked, thus the extra robes," he said indicating the folded black robes at the end of the small table.

Sirius gave a twitch of a nod, "Well, I appreciate the forethought. Okay, so I think I've got an idea of the proceedings, but I still don't understand where payment is coming from for this whole thing."

"Nothing is being sacrificed unwillingly or unknowingly. The price is minimal."

"Yeah, but _what is it?_ " Sirius pressed.

Tom just pinned him with an unimpressed look. "My blood. If that bothers you, then I'm afraid you can go back to the afterlife."

Sirius grimaced. "Why _your_ blood?"

"The blood of the foe is powerful. I am ultimately responsible for your death, therefore, contribution of my blood, is needed to power the ritual. Alternately we could call your house elf here and cut his hand off and drop that in, if you'd prefer that option."

Sirius nearly wretched at that prospect and quickly shook his head. "Fine, fine. I guess it's not that big of a deal. This isn't going to tie me to you in some twisted way, is it?"

"I cannot fathom how it would, and I most certainly wouldn't want it to," Tom grumbled tiredly. Harry realized that Tom was nearing the end of his rope with Sirius. Apparently the two had bickered nearly the whole night and morning.

Tom looked up into the twilight sky for a moment before reaching into his pocket and pulled out his pocket watch.

"We can start anytime now," he said, and Harry felt his heart leap in his chest.

Sirius seemed to square his shoulders nod his head. "I'm ready."

Tom nodded and looked to Harry. Harry quickly came forward and stood by the cauldron where Tom had instructed him earlier.

Tom gently unwrapped most of the homunculus, so it could be seen in it's cloth blanket. Sirius grimaced and made a disgusted sound, but made no other complaint. One of the ingredients on the table was a fine powder. Tom reached into it and pulled out a pinch, lightly sprinkling it over the homunculus. He picked the ring up from where it had been waiting on the table and slid it onto his right index finger. He then picked up the homunculus in both hands and began to speak.

" _T_ _rahere animam in_ _,_ _liga eam_ _,_ _cataracta eam in loco suo_ _!"_

The ring glowed slightly and Sirius gasped and then faded from view. Harry flinched and looked worriedly at Tom, but he showed no sign of concern. The homunculus started to glow brightly and then what looked like _steam_ started gently wafting from the fetus-shaped creature.

"Harry, if you will," Tom spoke gently. Harry nodded and picked up each of the three remaining ingredients still on the table and added each to the cauldron. The perfect silver surface turned black and bubbly.

Tom set the homunculus on the table and Harry was startled to see it was _moving slightly_ , though it looked waxy and mostly lifeless otherwise.

Tom stepped forward holding the remaining half of Orion Black's bone and began to speak in a strong, forceful voice.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son." He dropped the bone into the bubbling cauldron.

He reached into his robes and pulled out a sharp short knife and handed it to Harry who accepted it.

"Blood of the godson, willingly given, you will revive your compatris." Harry took the knife and sliced along the side of his arm, grimacing in pain as he did so. He held his arm out over the cauldron and let it drip in. A sideways glance told him the homunculus had suddenly gotten a lot more active. Harry had suspected Sirius wouldn't approve of this detail and had asked Tom that they keep it a secret as long as possible.

Tom extended his hand and Harry handed the knife over.

"Blood of the enemy, given in penance., you will resurrect your former foe." Now it was Tom's turn to slice a deep cut into his arm, bleeding into the cauldron while gritting his teeth against the stinging pain, and squeezing the wound to get as much as possible.

Then he picked the homunculus up from the table and dropped it in.

Harry held his breath and he was almost positive that his heart had stopped beating in terrified anticipation.

Much like he had seen just over a year ago in the graveyard at Little Hangleton, the cauldron seemed to melt away. Out from where it had been seemed to emerge a ball of flame and goo which also melted away, revealing only the floating homunculus, mid-air. It began to twist and change, growing in size and slowly becoming more human. What was, at first, quite horrible to look at, slowly morphed into a man, and that man became Sirius. He floated mid air for a moment before his feet touched the ground and the mist and smoke that had swirled around him, faded away with the wind.

Sirius stumbled forward and sucked in a gasping breath. His hair was still growing in for a moment longer, Harry noticed, but when everything finally seemed to have stopped, he looked just like Harry remembered him from that night at the Ministry.

"My god Tom, your amazing!" Harry laughed almost incredulously "It worked! It really worked!"

"Of course it worked," Tom said dismissively as he grabbed the set of robes and flung them at the still disoriented Sirius. Sirius caught them in shock and fumbled to hold onto them as his hands shook. He wobbled and took a shaky step forward, more because if he didn't he would have fallen forward, than any desire to move forward.

He caught himself, still just clutching the bundle of fabric to his chest and wobbling slightly before he pulled in a long slow breath and blinked several times, his eyes clearing and focusing. He looked down at his shaking hands that were slowly stilling and seemed to recognize what he had in his hands. He turned away, sorting out the bundle until he found the proper opening and slipped it over his shoulders. His arms came through the billowy sleeves and he pulled it closed in the front before turning back to face them.

"Sirius?" Harry asked anxiously.

Sirius looked at him and gave him a tired smirk. "Hey pup," he rasped.

Harry leapt forward and crashed into Sirius, wrapping his arms around the man in a desperate hug.

"Whoa there," Sirius said as he nearly stumbled back, but finally managed his balance enough to wrap his arms around Harry and pat his back.

Harry felt something hot and wet running down his cheeks, but opted to ignore it as he continued to bury his face in his very-much-physical and _alive_ godfather. "I can't believe it worked," he whispered into Sirius chest.

Sirius let out a tired laugh. "Me too, pup. Oh and hey - don't think I'm not going to mention that cut on your arm. Very sneaky, Harry."

"I knew you wouldn't want me involved, but it was the only way," Harry said, pulling back and looking up at Sirius. His eyes were still shining, but the look of utter elation on his face made it alright.

"Fine, fine. Lets get you healed."

Harry nodded and took a step back. Tom had his wand to his own cut and it was vanishing just as Harry looked over. Tom then wordlessly stepped over to Harry and performed the charm on him as well. Finally he turned his gaze on Sirius. "Welcome back Black. You should rest, you probably feel like shit."

Sirius grimaced, "Yeah, I do."

Harry frowned. "You seemed fine after you came back," Harry said as Tom waved his wand causing the table and scattered remaining ingredients to all vanished or fold up and zip off towards the house.

"I'm very good at faking that sort of thing, Harry. No doubt you've noticed that by now," Tom said, turning over his shoulder.

"Oh… yeah, I guess you are."

Tom began to walk back towards the house and Harry made to follow, but hesitated and then wen to Sirius' side, offering him his shoulder.

Sirius gave him a weak smile and a nod. "Thanks, Harry. My legs are a bit shaky, just would hate to fall on my face in front of _Tom_ there and make a fool of myself."

"You're perfectly capable of making a fool of yourself without the need for slapstick," Tom called back before he rounded the corner of the garden.

Sirius rolled his eyes skyward and grumbled.

With Harry's help, the two of them managed to get back into the house and Sirius was guided to the couch, which Tom had lengthened and widened, and had added a pillow and folded blanket to one end.

"Not to be _rude_ , but you've got one night here. You should feel fine by morning, and perfectly capable of enacting your miraculous resurrection," Tom said in a tone that was both annoyed and resigned before he turned and walked down the hall and into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Harry frowned, looking after him with worry. Sirius groaned as he managed to sit himself down on the couch and sigh.

"This is so surreal," Sirius whispered with a heavy sigh as he turned on the couch and lay his head down on the pillow.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like the man said," he said with a vague wave in the direction of Tom's bedroom. "Like shit. But I'm alive, so feeling like shit is probably an improvement over being dead."

"Yeah," Harry agreed with a weak laugh and his eyes traveled over to Tom's door. "Hey, are you gonna be alright for a minute? I wanna check on Tom."

"Meh, go," Sirius muttered, waving his hand and letting his eyes close in exhaustion.

Harry turned and went down the short narrow hallway and came to a stop at Tom's door. He rapped lightly on the door with the backs of his knuckles and listened for any sound.

"Tom?" Harry called out.

"Come in," a voice sounded from within, so Harry turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

"Tom?" Harry called out again, as he peaked his head inside. Tom was standing over by a table along one wall with a standing mirror beside it. A candle was burning and there were some herbs in a small clay burner next to that. Much to Harry's surprise, Tom had his shirt off and seemed to be doing something to his arm. "Tom what are you —" Harry's words cut off as he saw a trickle of blood fall from the arm. "What are you doing!?" Harry asked, rushing over.

Tom sighed tiredly but kept up his work. A short series of runes were now carved into the top of his right forearm. Harry stared in horror, wishing and waiting for some rational explanation. Tom reached over to the desk and stuck two of his fingers into a jar, covering them with paste, and then he wiped the paste over his fresh wounds and closed his eyes and _breathed_. He breathed the smoke in slowly and deeply and said nothing, even though Harry was standing right next to him, honestly freaking out a bit.

"Bloody hell, are you _done now?_ " Harry asked in exasperation as Tom finally opened his eyes and moved to the other side of the table where a small basin was half filled with some liquid. At first Harry assumed it was water, but he saw now that it was slightly red in tint.

"Not yet," Tom whispered back before picking the knife back up and stabbing the center of his palm. He let a muffled grunt escape his mouth, but otherwise he simply gritted his teeth and bore the pain.

"What the hell!" Harry yelped. He moved to grab the knife from Tom's hand but the other stopped him.

" _Don't_ ," Tom said through clenched teeth. Tom held his hand over the basin and made a squeezing fist. A few trickles of blood began to drip out, but Harry found he was horrified to see that it wasn't _blood_ , but some nasty black ooze.

"Oh god, what is that?" Harry whispered in horror.

Tom picked up his wand and cast some spell over his arm and the ooze came out faster and then stopped. He held his hand, now palm open over the basin for a moment longer until he was satisfied it was all gone. Then another wave of his wand and the wound on his palm, and the paste covered cuts on his forearm healed and vanished.

Tom let a heavy sigh of relief out and turned tiredly to Harry.

"You are going to tell me what just happened, and you're going to tell me _now,"_ Harry said firmly.

"Cleansing ritual," Tom muttered. "It doesn't get much darker than what we did out there Harry, and while you contributed with blood, I took the brunt of that spell. I didn't want that taint hanging around." He hesitated as he turned to grab the set of robes he had laying over the back of the chair by his desk. "Taint like that does things to you," he whispered.

Harry's anger and confusion from before deflated like a balloon and he sagged. "Oh Tom… why didn't you warn me?"

Tom turned his head and grinned slightly at Harry. "Why didn't you tell Sirius that you were contributing blood to the ritual?"

"Okay, good point," Harry conceded.

Tom slid one arm into the robes and then the other but didn't fold the front closed, instead he let it hang loosely open and Harry couldn't help but look at the line of Tom's chest that was still visible. Harry's eyes snapped back to Tom's face and he was smirking at him. Harry rolled his eyes as Tom chuckled.

"Should I take it back off?" Tom asked playfully, making Harry bark out a small incredulous laugh.

"You're a tease. _Sirius is here_."

"Does that mean I don't get a kiss?" Tom asked with pouting lips.

Harry felt his face go red and hot again, but he grinned back, enjoying the playful atmosphere that had replaced the weirdness of moments earlier.

Harry stepped forward and Tom moved around the chair so they could come together. Tom's hand came up and his fingers threaded their way into Harry's messy locks, pulling him in and planting another one of those slow, sensual kisses that Harry was pretty sure were going to be his favorite sort.

Harry's hand went to Tom's waist while the other came up to Tom's shoulder and rest there. Their heads tilted so they lined up just right and their tongues danced a slow, delicious dance that took Harry's breath away. The hand that Tom didn't have in Harry's hair came down and covered Harry's hand, intertwining their fingers together. Tom then moved Harry's hand lower and over so that it slipped between the open robe and directly onto Tom's skin.

Harry's heartbeat ramped up and the breathless feeling only doubled as he slowly traced his palm and fingers over soft warm flesh. Tom's hand left his and came to rest on Harry's hip, running his long fingers up and down Harry's side, caressingly.

Courage and desire winning the war over Harry's nerves, he moved his hand around beneath the robes, learning the soft bumps and creases. His fingers brushed over Tom's nipple and the man groaned lightly into Harry's mouth. Harry groaned as well, his own arousal spiked by the sound of Tom's reaction alone.

Finally the two pulled apart panting and Tom rest his forehead against Harry's grinning happily.

"Gods, I love this," he said in a breathy voice. "I love that I can do this. That you'll let me.

Harry couldn't help but smile in response to a statement like that. "Well… I love that you actually _want_ to do it."

Tom chuckled and shook his head. "Why _you_ would want this is beyond my understanding. But I'll take it. I'm enjoying this too much. You mean… so much to me, Harry." Tom's hand threaded it's way through Harry's hair, back and then again before he brought his hand down and caressed the side of Harry's face with the backs of his knuckles. "You're beautiful, you know."

Harry felt his face warm and he ducked his head a bit letting out a nervous laugh. "Hardly. I'm nothing compared to you. You're face… it's just perfect."

Tom grinned, and chuckled. "Well, I suppose we're fortunate that we both fit each other's ideal appearance. Also rather fortunate that restoring most of my soul restored my appearance as well. I rather doubt you'd be the least bit interested in kissing me with my _old_ face."

Harry raised his eyebrows into his forehead and gave Tom a weak grimace. "Erm… yeah, not sure I could do that."

Tom laughed, pulling back with one last brush of his fingers along Harry's face and then his shoulder before he turned away and went back to the standing mirror beside his desk. He pulled the robes closed, folding them over and securing an obscene number of tiny buttons with one swift wave of his hand.

"That's the most wizardy thing I've seen you wear this whole time," Harry remarked thoughtfully.

"I take my rituals seriously," Tom said with a shrug. "And did you honestly just say ' _wizardy'?"_

Harry just smiled unapologetically and shrugged.

Tom chuckled and continued,"a ritual of this magnitude should not be performed in trousers and a jumper."

Harry looked down at himself before looking back up. "Sorry. Didn't realize there was a dress code.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Don't worry Harry. You were only a partial participant. You contributed an ingredient. _I_ performed the ritual."

"And that's why you needed to do that cleansing thing?" Harry asked.

"Yes. It was important to remove the contamination left behind by magic of that magnitude."

"Is it normal for people to perform cleansing rituals like that after every Dark ritual?"

"It's highly recommended, but few do. They get complacent, insisting that they feel no ill effects and don't want to endure the pain or waste the time necessary to do it - I know I certainly did. But the taint builds up over time and it becomes something like an addiction _and_ a poison. A dependance that effects the mind. Since my body has been renewed in these horcrux restorations, the old dependance has vanished from my system and I can feel the difference. I don't want it back."

"Well… I'm glad you did it, but I'm sorry you had to."

Tom waved off his concern dismissively. "I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to do this for you Harry."

"Thank you," Harry said in a soft, sincere tone that made Tom turn back and fully face him. "Really. Thank you. That you _so much_."

"Harry, I —" but he was cut off and Harry wrapped his arms around Tom and rest his head against Tom's shoulder.

"Thank you," he whispered again.

"No. Thank _you,"_ Tom whispered back, wrapping his arms around Harry.

— —

Minerva McGonnagal's floo flared to life with a burst of green flame, just as she was about to leave her office for the day and return to the small cottage she owned down in Hogsmeade, where she preferred to reside during the summer break. She had been preparing acceptance letters, sorting out which were indicated to be muggleborns and which weren't, so she would know who needed an in-person visit.

"Nymphadora?" McGonagall exclaimed in surprise.

Tonks had looked desperate and harried, but the second her name was called a look of irritated consternation flooded her face instead. She huffed out a breath, shaking her head and refocused. "Is Dumbledore there?"

"This is not the Headmaster's office, this is _my_ office."

"Yeah, I know that, but I already tried _his_ office and he wasn't there."

McGonnagal sighed. "Well, then perhaps you should simply send a Patronus to call him?"

"I - oh yeah. Well… okay, I should have thought of that. In a bit of a panic here."

McGonnagal frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I - " Tonk's mouth floundered for a moment, "I can't really believe it myself but - well Sirius is back."

"Excuse me?"

"Sirius! He's alive!"

"But that's impossible. You yourself said you saw him fall through that veil thing in the Department of Mysteries."

"Yeah, I _did_. But he says he fell back out the other end."

McGonnagal's concerned frown deepened. "I'll get Albus."

—

Remus Lupin paced back and forth in front of the chair that Sirius was currently sitting on. Remus kept shooting furtive glances at Sirius and frowning deeply.

"Okay, in forth year, over spring break, you and I got into a fight over a girl, and it went so far that you challenged me to a duel. What spell did you use to win?"

Sirius grinned his wolfish grin. "I didn't win. You got me with a tripping hex."

Lupin stared at the man sitting before him in utter astonishment.

"How goes it?" Tonks asked as she walked back into the room.

"He's gotten every question right! He knows things that only Sirius would know."

"That's because I _am_ Sirius!" Sirius said with a laugh.

"But _how!?"_ Remus said in a desperately bewildered voice.

"How the hell am I supposed to know? I don't even know what the hell that weird arch thing _is_. Let alone how the damn thing works."

"You fell into it _a month_ ago!"

Sirius gave him a bewildered look and shook his head. "Feels like last night to me."

"So you didn't experience any of the time you spent in that thing?" Tonks asked sitting down on one of the sofas in the drawing room that faced the chair Sirius had been perched in upon his arrival.

"As far as I knew, a big battle was going on all around me, Bellatrix and I were dueling, and then the bitch managed to trip me up and I fell backwards. I passed through this silky veil thing and fell on my bum on the other side. But suddenly everyone else was gone and it was dead silent in there."

"Wow, that's brill - and _totally crazy_ ," Tonks said, shaking her head.

"We thought you were dead," Remus said in a soft, raspy voice. "Even your Will magically activated."

Sirius' eyes went wide. "Well, that's… a bit much to take in. Harry got it all, right? Please tell me it didn't go to Bella?"

Remus smiled weakly and nodded. "Yeah, Harry got it all."

"Well, that's a relief. S'pose he'll let me keep living in his house?" Sirius grinned cheekily and Remus shook his head and chuckled weakly.

"Speaking of Harry… _Merlin_ , he's going to flip!" Tonks remarked.

"Where is Harry?" Sirius asked.

"With the Dursley's," Remus said with a grimace.

"Bloody hell! You lot sent him _there_ after all that happened?"

"Well, you know how Albus insists that he has to stay there each summer long enough to solidify the ward's protection," Remus said with a sigh.

Sirius' face hardened, and there was a light in his eyes that Remus didn't entirely understand.

"Right. Albus," Sirius muttered before clearing his throat.

"He should be on his way," Tonks said, drawing Sirius' gaze.

"Whut - why?" Sirius asked, and he looked legitimately displeased by this news.

"Er, well, I sent a patronus out to him. Telling him you'd come back and to come quick."

Sirius grimaced. "Bloody brilliant," he grumbled just barely under his breath. "Hey, what are the chances of getting Harry here sometime real soon?"

"Well, we can ask Dumbledore when he gets here," Remus said.

Sirius scoffed. "Like it's his right to dictate something like that? _I'm_ Harry's godfather."

"Sirius, calm down" Remus said appeasingly. "We'll —"

But whatever Remus was about to say was cut off by the sound of people coming up the stairs, just beyond the door to the drawing room. Then, in walked Dumbledore, McGonnagal, and Snape.

"Snape!? What are _you_ doing here," Sirius sneered.

Snape came to a stop and he had a rather nasty grin on his face. He reached into an inner pocket and pulled out a small bottle with a colorless liquid inside it and wiggled it a bit in the air.

"Veritaserum?" Remus exclaimed. "Don't you think that's a bit much?" He looked at Dumbledore.

Dumbledore was walking around the sofa's, keeping his eyes trained on Sirius and examining him speculatively. McGonnagal just gaped at him as if she were looking at a dead man, walking.

"Sirius?" Dumbledore asked curiously as he came closer.

Remus noticed a twitch in Sirius' eye that he usually associated with the sort of look Sirius would give Snape on the rare occasion he was trying to be civil.

"That would be me," Sirius said, appearing to force on a smile. Remus filed this behavior away for future questioning.

"I've asked him nearly a dozen different questions that only Sirius Black would be capable of knowing. It _really_ is him," Remus offered up.

"Mmm - it certainly does appear so," Dumbledore mused. "But Sirius Black, _died_. Making the fact that Sirius Black is now standing before us, seem quite improbable. Sirius my boy, would you be willing to submit - just very briefly - to veritaserum?"

"Oh come on, Albus!" Remus objected.

Sirius tipped his nose up proudly. "Fine. Do it."

— —


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"He should be getting grilled pretty heavily by now," Tom mused as he swung his legs in front of him while he sat atop a low stone wall near the park by Privet Drive.

"You really think they'll go all out like that?" Harry asked both worried and skeptically.

"I think they'll go so far as to use veritaserum on him. Which is why I gave him a preventative contraserum this morning before he left," Tom shrugged.

"What's contraserum?"

"It strengthens mental defenses, and counteracts and nullifies most of the effects of veritaserum. But it must be taken at least two hours before exposure to the truth serum, because it's ineffective before that and is only effective for an hour after. You've got to time it just right, making it impractical for those who find themselves being interrogated without advanced warning."

"What if they suspect he's used a contraserum?"

"It's unlikely they would suspect that, even if Black turns out to be a terrible actor. The potion has to be brewed the day it's used. It can't be stored, even under a stasis charm. The potion is illegal, for obvious reasons, so you'd be hard pressed to find an apothecary willing to make it for you, and even if you did, chances are they wouldn't be skilled enough to do it. If you think veritaserum is a difficult potion to brew, contraserum is decidedly _harder_."

Harry smirked over at Tom, sitting beside him. "But _you_ could do it."

"Of course," Tom said dismissively, causing Harry to chuckle.

"If you're so brilliant with potions, what did you need Snape for?" Harry asked curiously, after a moment of silence had passed.

"Potions are very _time consuming_ work. I had better things to do. I would delegate those tasks to Severus. He was also the only person I trusted could do as well as I could with the brews."

"Ah. I see."

Harry glanced to the side as a woman rounded the path and began walking in their direction. As she got a bit closer, Harry called out, "Good afternoon Mrs. Figg."

"She can't hear you, Harry," Tom chuckled, and Harry gave him a quick glare.

"Well, then dispell this sound ward. She'll think it's weird if I don't say anything."

Tom gave a lazy wave of his hand, and Harry could only assume, Tom had done what he'd asked.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Figg," Harry said again, drawing her distracted gaze up towards them, sitting atop the dividing wall.

"Oh! Harry! I almost didn't see you up there. How have you been doing lately?"

"I'm doing good, actually," Harry said with a small nod and a smile.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. And who might this be?"

"This is Thomlyn Moore. He's a friend."

"Ah, well, nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Tom responded politely.

"Well, I really must be going. I'm meeting up with Matilda from Number Six down in the park, and I'm already running behind."

"Bye then," Harry said with a wave. She returned it and a parting goodbye before she resumed her walk down the path.

Tom surreptitiously waved his wand in the same movement he'd used before, so Harry assumed the sound ward was back up.

"She's technically an Order Member," Harry remarked.

Tom blinked at him. "Her?" he asked incredulously.

"She's a squib. Apparently Dumbledore bought her the house she lives in, or something, way back when he left me here. She lived down on Wisteria Walk my whole life, and often offered to babysit me for free. She's got a zillion cats and her house smells, so I never really liked going over there much, but she was always nice. I never had any idea who she really was until last summer when she showed up, just after those two dementors attacked my cousin and I."

"So Dumbledore put a squib down the street to spy on you," Tom mused with obvious annoyance. "And she played along with your relatives desire to keep you ignorant. All that time, she could have revealed the truth to you - told you about the wizarding world and magic - and yet she never did." Tom sounded incensed.

"Believe me, the same thought has bitterly passed through my mind, as well," Harry grumbled.

"Oh, before I forget —" Tom said suddenly, reaching into his pocket and pulling out something and handed it to Harry. It was a wristwatch.

Harry blinked at it as he accepted it. "What's this for?" he asked.

"Safety measure," Tom said and pulled up his sleeve, revealing an identical watch on his wrist. "Press the winding button on the left and it'll connect to mine and act like a muggle two-way, or a telephone. You can speak into it and I'll hear, and I can speak back. The button on the opposite side _sends_ sound only, and doesn't receive any sounds back. This is so that you transmit the sounds around you without risking my response being noticed, if for example, you're in a position to where you cannot speak freely, but need to get my attention."

"Oh, brilliant," Harry mused looking the watch over more closely. The face of the watch was quite nice, with numerous hands and two secondary tiny circles with even more hands and Harry realized he had no idea how to make sense of half of what was displayed there. But part of it was clearly a normal clock, and that was good enough.

He secured it to his wrist and gave it a try, pushing the 2-way button and speaking into it. "Testing?"

Harry's voice echoed from Tom's watch and Harry grinned. "It's like a secret agent spy watch," Harry said with a grin.

"Well, technically it sort of _is_ ," Tom said with a shrug.

Harry hummed and they sat in quiet for a moment longer. "Do you think I should be hanging out closer to Privet Drive?" Harry asked.

"I thought we confirmed that your relatives would dislike that too much?"

Harry grimaced, "yeah, they would. But I just wonder if Remus, or who ever comes looking for me, won't think to come here and search for me."

"Well, we can walk up and down the street until someone shows up, or we get too bored," Tom offered and Harry smiled thankfully.

The two climbed off the wall and headed back towards Privet Drive. Fortunately, they didn't have to walk nearly as long or far as they'd feared. Standing in front of Number 4 was Albus Dumbledore.

"Well, that's not what I was expecting," Tom muttered under his breath as the Headmaster came into view.

Harry grimaced slightly. "Me neither."

"Worried curiosity, Harry. Aim for worried curiosity. Once he reveals the news of Sirius you need to be appropriately shocked. Disbelief would be appropriate."

"I know, I'm fine," Harry hissed back under his breath. "Headmaster Dumbledore!"

"Ah, Harry. I'm very relieved to have found you at home, this time of day. I feared we wouldn't find you until later this evening," Dumbledore said genially.

"Is something wrong? What's going on?" Harry asked, making an effort to sound _worried and curious_.

"Oh, nothings _wrong_. But something of great interest has most certainly happened. Would you like to go inside so we can discuss it?"

"Uh, I rather doubt Aunt Petunia would really want us discussing it in there," Harry began but then glanced around the neighborhood, spotting at least one neighbor peaking out from between her drapes, and looking quite incredulously at Dumbledore. "On second thought, I think she'd be more upset if we continued to speak _out here_."

The three entered Number 4 and Harry was relieved to find that Aunt Petunia was no where in sight and Dudley was obviously out and about the neighborhood, no doubt terrorizing someone with the aid of his _friends_.

They sat down on the couch in the same arrangement they'd assumed the last time Dumbledore had paid an unexpected visit. Dumbledore then proceeded to reveal the most miraculous and stunning return of Harry's godfather. Harry had thought he'd be able to act the part, but it wasn't as easy as he'd hope. He ended up hoping he'd just come off as _totally stunned_ , and not as someone trying to fake enthusiasm.

"Wait - so Sirius is at Grimmauld Place, right now?" Harry asked with intensity.

"Yes, that is correct," Dumbledore said with a deep slow nod of his head. "And we have confirmed with absolute certainty that he _is_ Sirius Black, and not an imposter."

"Well he was found in his home, isn't that right?" Tom asked, gaining Dumbledore's gaze.

"Yes, that's right."

"Well, it would be difficult for him to be an imposter and get in there, wouldn't it? It's protected under that Fidelius spell, as I understood it."

"Ah - yes. Harry told you about it, then?"

"Harry tells me everything," Tom stated.

Dumbledore's brows raised into his forehead, but he made no further comment on that.

"Well, Harry, given this rather unexpected turn of events, I thought I'd see if you were still set on remaining here with your muggle relatives?" Dumbledore asked, turning his focus back to Harry.

"You mean, go stay with Sirius instead?" Harry asked.

"Correct."

Harry looked thoughtfully before looking over at Tom for a moment. "Can Thomlyn be allowed to visit? I mean… he'd have to be let in on the secret…" Harry trailed off.

"Ah… well…" Dumbledore seemed to pause to think, "yes, I believe that would be acceptable. Perhaps you would consider spending more of your leisure time at Grimmauld Place and less time… elsewhere."

Harry grinned feeling a wave of triumph crash over him. Tom actually looked mildly stunned, and Harry suspected it was honest surprise too.

"You would be willing to allow me access to your Order's headquarters?" Tom asked, in a shocked tone. "I know you've no doubt done a background check on me, but it still seems surprising given how little you actually know me."

"I'm willing to trust Harry's judgement on this one," Dumbledore said, smiling at Harry.

Harry felt himself flinch as his mind warred between his new grander understanding of things, and his long-held instincts to trust this man and to feel pride or happiness when faced with supposed approval or trust from the old man.

"Well, I thank you for your faith in both myself and in Harry," Tom said graciously.

"With that settled, Harry, perhaps you might want to go and collect your belongings?"

"Uh, yeah," Harry said standing up. Tom made to rise as well, but Dumbledore raised one hand to stop him.

"I was wondering if Thomlyn might sit with me and keep an old man company for a few minutes?"

Tom slowly sat back down. He looked to Harry and gave one quick nod before fully focusing on Dumbledore opposite him.

Harry hesitated for a moment but finally turned and raced up the stairs towards his bedroom.

"Was there something you needed?" Tom asked Dumbledore calmly.

"Needed? Oh no. Actually, I wondered if you had taken any more thought into applying to Hogwarts as a transfer student?"

Tom blinked. That was not what he'd anticipated.

"I… hadn't thought about it much, actually."

"Ah, well I would encourage you to seriously consider it. Your marks on your OWL exams were quite impressive. Plus it would certainly grant you greater access to Harry, during the school year. I must admit, I can imagine Harry finding ways to disappear from school grounds quite often if he had someone out there that he really wanted to visit. Given the severity of Harry's enemies, minimizing such recreational outings would probably be in the best interest of his safety. And you did say, after all, that if you considered attending the school, it would be to help guarantee Harry's safety, did you not?"

A small smile turned the corner of Tom's mouth. "That I did," he nodded. "Alright, Professor. You've sold me on the idea. What is it that I need to do?"

Harry finished up with his packing fairly quickly, as he'd already been mostly packed in anticipation of just this very sort of thing happening. He shoved his trunk out the door of his room and went back to Hedwig's cage. He opened the latch on the cage and the window to his bedroom.

"I'm going to Number 12 Grimmauld Place again, alright Hedwig? Just like last summer. I think you'd be better off flying there yourself than hitching a ride with me," Harry said to the snowy white owl as he gently scratched the feathers around her chin.

Hedwig made a chirruping sort of sound back before hopping out of the cage and taking off out the window. Harry then took the empty cage and set it on top of his trunk before dragging the whole thing towards the stairs. Tom appeared at the bottom and extended his wand. A moment later, Harry's trunk was floating its way effortlessly down the stairs.

"Thanks," Harry said. "I was not looking forward to trying to get that down."

"I would expect not. Would you like me to put a featherweight charm on your trunk? It would make it considerably more manageable," Tom offered.

"Oh… yeah, that sounds kind of brilliant."

Dumbledore appeared in the archway to the sitting room with his hands folded behind his back. "Ready, Harry?"

"Ready as I'll ever be," Harry said, with a grin as he mentally said goodbye forever to his personal hell in muggle suburbia.

Just at that moment, the front door opened and Petunia Dursley stood there with several bags of groceries in her arms. She squawked in surprise at their presence there and quickly shut the door behind her. "This is unacceptable!" she hissed at Harry. "What are _they_ doing here, during the day?!"

"Ah, Petunia, what perfect timing," Dumbledore said graciously, earning a sharp yet horrified look from aunt Petunia. "I was hoping to take Harry with me today and relocate him to another house for the remainder of the summer holidays. With your permission, of course."

She eyed the trunk and then pinned Dumbledore with another sharp look. "It doesn't look like you were intending to ask _permission_."

Dumbledore just gave her an innocent smile.

She huffed out a breath and waved her hand impatiently. "Yes, take the boy. Go! Just get out of here before Vernon gets home."

And with that, she stomped down the hallway into the kitchen.

The three wizards quickly left the house with Harry now drawing a significantly lighter trunk behind him.

Tom looked questioningly at Dumbledore. "Are you intending for us to apparate from out here? In broad daylight?"

"I actually thought we might take the Knightbus," Dumbledore said with a warm smile.

Tom's eyes nearly bugged out. "No. Absolutely not. I refuse to board that thing."

"I'm with Thomlyn on this one," Harry said raising his hand. "Not a fan of the Knightbus."

"Oh? How unfortunate. I find it can be quite the exhilarating experience."

"I would definitely prefer apparition," Harry said.

"I suppose," Dumbledore said with a sigh, sounding disappointed. The group walked down the street, in the opposite direction of the park Harry and Tom usually apparated from, until they came to an alley way where people placed their trash bins for pick up. It was adequately out of view and Dumbledore offered them each his hand. Harry internally cringed but took hold of one of Dumbledore's arms.

"Now, I assume you've side-along apparated before," Dumbledore said with a grin. Tom actually rolled his eyes, but Harry nodded. "It may be somewhat uncomfortable, especially with the both of you at once. But it will be over quickly enough."

Having made it clear they were all ready, Dumbledore spun on the spot, dragging the two of them and Harry's trunk, through what felt like a small rubber tube, and then spitting them back out again, on the street directly in front of Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

"And here we are," Dumbledore said cheerfully. Harry stumbled a bit, but Tom seemed unfazed. "Ah, and I mustn't forget. Thomlyn, the Order of the Phoenix's headquarters is located at Number 12 Grimmauld Place."

Harry watched as Tom's eyes seemed to refocused and widen as he stared at the house before them.

"That should do it," Dumbledore seemed to conclude. "I'm sure you can find your way inside Harry. I really ought to be getting back to the school. Much to do, much to do. Now off you go," he motioned for the two of them to climb the stairs and both did, hearing a gentle crack just as they stepped through the door and went inside.

"I can't believe he told you the secret!" Harry hissed, grinning. "I seriously did not expect you to be able to come in here!"

"I certainly didn't expect it either," Tom mused before looking around. "Ah, I do remember this place… although it's considerably filthier now than the last time I saw it…"

"Harry!" Remus Lupin called out as he began to hurry down the stairs. It set off Mrs. Black's portrait and she began her usual diatribe of hate and disgust with the unfortunate occupants of her noble home. "Oh shut up," Remus said tiredly before turning back to Harry. "I assume Dumbledore told you everything?"

Harry grinned, "Yeah, I've heard it all. Where is he?"

"Upstairs in his room right now." Remus shifted his gaze to Tom, looking surprised. "Oh, hello…"

"Dumbledore let him in on the secret, so he could visit me," Harry explained quickly before he started to head up the stairs.

"I'll give you some time with your godfather, Harry, don't worry about me," Tom called after him.

Harry looked at him questioningly for a moment before nodding and jogging the rest of the way up the stairs to the next landing and rounding the corner there.

"I have to admit, I'm rather surprised that Professor Dumbledore was alright with allowing you in here," Remus said as the two were left alone at the base of the stairs, with Walburga Black's portrait still screaming in the background.

"I was quite surprised as well. I honestly didn't expect to be allowed in. I figured the only way I'd be seeing Harry now was when he could get away and visit. But I suppose Professor Dumbledore probably thought the same thing. He didn't exactly like that Harry was running off with me every day while at the Dursley's, since it meant he had no idea where Harry really was. I suppose that's his motive here. He'd rather have Harry staying here where you lot know where he is, with me visiting, rather than Harry visiting me. I supposed he considered it worth more than the off chance risk that I'd overhear something _sensitive_."

"What… do you _know_ about this house, exactly?" Remus asked hesitantly.

"I know that this house belonged to the Black family for more than a century. I know that Sirius' mother died more than a decade ago and it probably sat empty while Sirius was in Azkaban. And I know that it's currently being used as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix."

"Ah. Yes… so Harry told you about the Order," Remus said, more than actually asked.

"Of course. His parents were Order members, you're an order member, Sirius and such. I know it was the Order that came to Harry's rescue at the Ministry, and I know it's been Order members who have been staking out Harry's muggle home."

"You can see through disillusionment charms," Remus observed more than asked. "The others have said that Harry's been waving to them recently, and it's always after you seem to point them out to him."

"Mm, I've always been good at sensing things like that. Honestly, I wish that you lot would have taken the initiative to speak to Harry every now and then, rather than just hiding out all the time. It really bothered him that he felt like he was being spied on, when I'm sure your intention was to simply protect him."

Remus hummed thoughtfully, his brow creased with mild worry. "Hmm, yes. I can see that. But Dumbledore didn't want us to disrupt his normal summer life, so the goal was to remain as inconspicuous as possible."

Tom gave an unimpressed little hum and turned his gaze on Walburga's portrait down the hall, which was still screaming and yelling.

"Is there a _reason_ that thing is still on the wall?" Tom asked dubiously.

"It's there because no one can get it down," Remus said with an exasperated sigh. "That's Sirius' mother. She was a dramatically unpleasant woman in life, and significantly more so in death."

Tom cringed against an especially shrill scream. "Mind if I have a go at it?"

"Removing the painting?" Remus asked skeptically.

"Or at least silencing it," Tom said with a shrug.

"Be my guest."

—

Harry knocked on the door to Sirius room and stepped inside after he heard a call from within.

Sirius was there by himself, sitting on his bed with a big wolfish grin on his face. Harry grinned back.

"So it worked?" Harry asked.

Sirius chuckled and Harry quickly closed the door behind him and moved inside.

"It's all good. I've gotta admit, that bastard of yours _is_ handy with his potions. I didn't even know a counter-potion to veritaserum existed."

"Sirius," Harry chided, rolling his eyes.

"What?" Sirius said defensively. "It's an accurate description! You said his father abandoned him and his mum before he was born. So that's a bastard, right?"

"Well, actually, his mum and dad _were_ married, so no, he isn't."

Sirius gave a disinterested shrug. "Eh, close enough. Bellatrix may not be a dog, but she's still a bitch."

Harry rolled his eyes but chuckled softly. "So how is the whole ownership thing looking?" Harry asked and when Sirius blinked at him blankly for a moment, Harry waved his hands tot he room in general, "I mean, like with your will. Did everything revert to you?"

"Oh! I don't know, actually."

"Well, see if you can order Kreacher to do something," Harry suggested.

"Kreacher!" Sirius called out, but nothing happened.

"Kreacher!" Harry tried, and a moment later, Kreacher appeared before him, looking entirely disgruntled. "Bollocks," Harry cursed.

"Looks like he's still your's," Sirius joked.

"How do we fix this?" Harry asked, worriedly before dismissing Kreacher.

"Not really sure we need to," Sirius shrugged. "I'm a wanted man still, Harry. I can't really _do_ much of anything with my _assets_. Actually getting into my vault was a right pain the few times I risked it. Now the vault is yours. No problems there."

"But I don't want your money!" Harry insisted.

"Alright, then don't spend any of it. Any chance you could lend me some from time to time if I ask you to go fetch it for me, though?" Sirius grinned innocently.

Harry huffed but smiled and nodded. "Okay, fine. But once we get your name cleared, I want to make a legitimate effort to get you your stuff back."

"Of course," Sirius said in a placating tone.

"So anyway, I brought my stuff, and we told my aunt I was leaving, so I guess I'm here for the rest of the summer!" Harry said happily.

"Brilliant, pup. It'll be great being able to do more than float near you and make rude remarks. Plus, it'll be nice for you to spend time with people who aren't former Dark Lords."

Harry snorted and shook his head. "Well, I suppose you putting the word 'former' in there is an improvement. I do appreciate that. But as it just so happens, Dumbledore told Tom this house's address, so he's in on the secret now and can come visit." Harry grinned widely.

Sirius looked horrified. "He did _what?_ Great _Merlin_ , this is just… this is utterly barmy. Inviting _him_ to come _hang out_ at Order Headquarters?"

Harry snickered. "I thought it was kind of funny, actually. I never thought it would work, honestly. But I guess Dumbledore wants me where he knows he can find me, over me running off with Tom to who knows where. He'd rather Tom come here, than me go there."

Sirius grumbled, looking entirely displeased with this development. "So where's Tommy-boy now?" he asked sarcastically.

"Downstairs with Remus."

"He's _here? Now? Unsupervised?"_

"I did say he was _with Remus_."

"Remus is too trusting! He'll just leave him alone! Who knows what that bastard will get into!"

"Sirius!" Harry chided in frustration as Sirius got up from his bed and was already heading out the door. Harry huffed out an annoyed breath and hurried after him. They went down two landings to the main floor before Sirius came to an abrupt stop and Harry came up from behind him.

"What are you doing?" Sirius asked suspiciously.

Tom was standing in the hallway with his wand aimed at the painting of Walburga Black. A painting that was surprisingly quiet.

"I couldn't help but remark on how obnoxious this painting of your mother was being and Remus mentioned how no one had been able to do anything about it. I asked if I could have a go at it, and he said to give it a shot," Tom explained simply.

Sirius forcefully walked his way towards Tom, coming to a stop a bit behind him and looked up at the painting. In the picture, Walburga Black still looked utterly furious and was quite obviously still screaming bloody murder. But not a peep could be heard from it.

"How'd you do that?" Sirius asked incredulously. "None of the regular silencing charms would work on it! We tried _dozens!_ "

"The portrait isn't what's silenced, _she_ is. Inside the painting, she's silenced."

Sirius looked at Tom dubiously. "Excuse me?"

"Well if, for example, someone from another portrait walked into her frame, they would still be able to speak and it would be audible. However, even to _them_ , she would sound mute. It's a spell that effects the reality of the painting, rather than the paintings existence in _our reality_."

"You can do that?" Sirius said in surprise.

"I know!" Remus said laughing, coming up the stairs that led down to the kitchen. "I couldn't believe it when he got her silenced."

"Have either of you ever looked into what is involved in creating magical portraits and landscapes?" Tom asked, almost pointedly.

"Uh, no," Sirius said with a shake of his head.

Remus laughed, "Art was never one of my strong points."

"Well, it is, admittedly, practically an entire branch of magic of it's own," Tom mused with a tilt of his shoulder. "It's far more diverse and considerably more complex than most think. Although, you _can_ take regular oil painting and animate it with a single spell, it won't be realistic or have any substance to it. You can spot these cheap attempts a mile away. All the best magical paintings have a substantial amount of depth and life to them, and that's constructed through a vast array of highly specialized spells that control the environment inside the painting."

"Huh…" Sirius said with slightly dumfounded surprise. He looked back up at the outraged, but silent, painting of his mother on the wall and grinned. He wiggled his fingers at her, reached up, and pulled the curtain closed. "Ah… hear that?"

"Hear what?" Remus asked.

"Nothing. Sweet, beautiful, nothing."

Remus chuckled before glancing towards Tom who was now standing beside Harry. Rather close, beside him, in fact. Remus glanced hesitantly over at Sirius and then back at Harry. "So uhm… did you two get a chance to talk much?" Remus asked Harry.

"Huh? Uh - yeah?" Harry said, slightly confused.

"I mean, have you mentioned your _new friend_ at all?" Remus hedged.

"Oh! You mean, did I tell Sirius that I'm gay and I met Thomlyn through a teen gay support group's penpal service?" Harry asked, grinning.

Sirius snorted and rolled his eyes.

"Er, yes. That," Remus said.

"Yeah, he told me," Sirius said with a sigh, giving Tom a less than approving look.

"Sirius, that's hardly an attitude —" Remus started.

"It's okay," Harry said, hoping to change he subject. "So, I noticed Buckbeaks gone? Where'd he go?"

They split apart shortly after with Sirius and Remus going down to the kitchen and Harry taking Tom up to the room he'd shared with Ron the summer prior. Tom had taken one look at the room, and insisted on a magical renovation.

"Renovation?" Harry had asked, dubiously.

"Yes. Wallpaper, carpet, drapes - the bedspread at least looks clean, but it's ancient. The furniture's paint is peeling and faded, and that chair has one leg that's too short."

Harry looked down at the chair he was sitting in and rocked back and forth on the odd-sized legs before looking up and shrugging. "It's hardly the worst place I've ever lived."

"Never leave me alone with your uncle, Harry. Never - leave - me - alone - with - him," Tom punctuated each word.

Harry's eyes were wide and he nodded slowly. "Ri—ght… Anyway, it's certainly good enough, you don't need to go to any trouble."

"How could it possibly be any trouble, Harry? It'll take less than five minutes," Tom said rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

Tom looked up and saw a magical portrait hanging there, but it was empty. "Who's portrait is this?"

"Oh, it's uhm… Phineas Nigellus Black, I think."

Tom turned and looked at Harry sharply. "You're kidding!"

"Uh, no, that's him. Not sure what the big deal is. I mean, I get that he was a headmaster, but isn't he also known as one of the least-popular headmaster's ever?"

"Not that!" Tom hissed as he turned and grabbed the portrait off the wall, tossing it on the bed portrait-side down and throwing a pillow over it. "Think of what you just said, Harry - he was a _Headmaster of Hogwarts_. Every Hogwarts Headmaster has a portrait _in the Headmaster's office_. The subjects of magical portraits can travel freely between all proper portraits painted of them. So Phineas Black can go from the Headmaster's office, to peak in on _your bedroom_ and go back, whenever he damn well wants."

Harry's eyes went big again. "You mean, you think he might spy on me for Dumbledore?"

"I'm saying he was probably put in your room, _specifically_ so he _could_ do just that. Yes, he's spying on you."

"Bollocks!" Harry cursed as he grimaced down at the bits of frame that still poked out from beneath the pillow. "Well, do you have any of those fancy spells like the one that silenced Mrs. Black that would keep him from seeing or hearing anything in this portrait?"

"Of course, but _he would notice_. And he would tell Dumbledore. It would look suspicious if you somehow managed to cast complex spells to blind and deafen a portrait for no apparent reason."

"So what do we do?" Harry asked.

"Well… honestly, I think we should just move the bloody portrait _somewhere else_. Stick it in some closet or unused bedroom."

"Oh… yeah, I guess that makes sense.

Tom wrapped the painting in a pillow case and the two slipped out of Harry's room and went down the hall. A linen closet was set into the wall beside the bathroom and Tom pulled it open to inspect it. He pulled out the contents of one shelf and checked for depth. It wasn't _quite_ deep enough to hold the painting flat, but a quick wave of Tom's wand and Harry saw the shelf suddenly grow further back by an extra five inches. Tom slid the painting, face down, onto the shelf and then Harry stuffed the pile of sheets and towels that _had_ been on the shelf, back into place."

"So what happens when Phineas Nigellus tries to spy on me and finds himself in the pitch black?" Harry asked.

"What _can_ he do?" There's any number of reasons for a portrait to get put into storage that aren't suspicious at all. With the darkness, he won't be able to tell where he is, and Dumbledore would have to search the house pretty thoroughly to find it. And _then_ he'd have to come up with a convincing excuse for putting it back in the room. This should be enough for a good while to come."

"Great. Merlin, to think he was probably spying on Ron and I most of last summer. That's just creepy."

The two returned to Harry's room, and Tom set about fixing it up. He had to prod Harry for any preferences, as in the beginning, Harry just kept insisting that it wasn't important, and _anything was fine_.

In the end, the room ended up featuring a lot of maroon and cream colors. Tom sighed as he looked at it. "Well it's certainly a monumental improvement. A bit much _red_ though."

Harry snickered, "What, would you have preferred _green and silver?_ "

Tom scoffed. "I'm not _that_ much of a stereotype. But I can't blame you for finding the red comfortable. You _have_ spent the majority of the last five years, living in a room absolutely covered in the stuff.'

The walls had cream wallpaper with red designs that looked like they'd been stamped on. The legs or feet of any of the furniture in the room now looked like polished gold metal, while any wood parts were a deep mahogany color, and with red-dyed leather linings on the tops where appropriate. None of which had been there before. The furniture had been rather plain and wooden, before this.

"So how'd you come up with the designs for these?" Harry asked, eyeing the writing desk with it's maroon mat top, rich wood, and gold accents.

"I remember some furniture along those lines from somewhere at some point. Just the idea that came to mind when I _finally_ managed to drag some color preferences out of you."

"Oh come on! I knew if I just came out and told you _red and gold_ you'd probably poke fun."

"Am I poking fun?"

Harry grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "I guess not."

"That common room, back in Gryffindor Tower is like _home_ , right? It's the one place that has felt more like _home_ than any other. It's only natural that things that you remind you of _home_ , would make you feel more comfortable."

Harry stared at Tom for a moment. "I never even thought about it like that… but I guess that's really insightful."

Tom shrugged. "I tried to make my bedroom at the orphanage as green and silver as I could manage when I was younger, for the exact same reason," he grinned softly and shrugged.

There was a knocking on the door then that drew both of their attentions. Harry jumped up and went over to open the door.

It was Remus. "We've got some dinner ready down in the kitchen. Thomlyn is welcome to stay if he wants."

"Actually, I should be going," Tom said, coming to stand beside Harry. "I've monopolized your time _far_ too much, on a day as important as today," he said to Harry. "Spend some time with Sirius."

Harry looked conflicted but gave Tom a thankful smile and nodded.

The three went down the stairs and Harry walked Tom to the front door. Remus hung back and then just turned and made his way down the stairs to the kitchen.

"So… what next?" Harry asked.

"Next… I give you a couple days."

"Days? Why?" Harry asked.

"Because you've got Sirius back, you nitwit. Spend some time actually getting to know him. Ask him about your family history, or about your mum and dad. Get him to tutor you on the animagus transformation. Whatever. Do the same with Lupin. They're basically uncles to you, you should get more comfortable with them, especially if you're going to be living with them."

Harry twisted up his mouth thoughtfully before nodding. "Okay, right. What about after that?"

"Well, we still have to make time for those occlumency lessons, and I'd like you to continue to work on spell drills," Tom said and Harry groaned slightly. "Also, it's nearly your birthday," Tom pressed on, smiling up at Harry through his fringe. "I couldn't help but wonder what you might be doing for it."

"Oh. I have no idea," Harry said, surprised. "It had kind of slipped my mind."

"Well, if it turns out Sirius, or your friends intend to throw you some sort of party, I'd like to attend."

"Really? You don't strike me as the party type," Harry grinned cheekily.

Tom chuckled. "It has certainly been a very, very long time, since I last attended a _birthday party_. But this is special. It's _you_ birthday. Besides… I would sort of like to meet your friends. If that's alright with you, of course."

Harry felt himself blush and couldn't help the smile on his face. "Yeah… I've been wanting that for some reason. Seems irrational, part of me is terrified of trying to figure out how to tell them, but it's getting easier. Hey, that reminds me - when is _your_ birthday?"

"My real birthday, or Thomlyn Moore's birthday?" Tom asked quietly.

"Er… both, I guess," Harry whispered back.

"Real birthday is December 31st. Thomlyn Moore's birthday is recorded as April 14th."

"Well, I'll just have to find a way out of Hogwarts on _both_ of those days, so we can celebrate," Harry grinned.

"That might not be necessary."

"I definitely want to celebrate your birthday, if you're going to celebrate _mine,_ " Harry argued.

"Not that. I mean, sneaking out."

"How so?"

"When you were up in your room packing and Dumbledore wanted me to stay with him? He made another effort to convince me to apply to Hogwarts. I'd been mulling the idea around in my mind for a while now, debating the reasons to do it over the reasons not to… I was already leaning towards actually doing it, but the biggest factor of all really just comes down to being able to be near you… Of course, if you'd rather I keep my distance, I can cancel the whole thing, I just…"

Harry smiled and pulled Tom in for a hug. "Merlin, that is going to be so weird. And _brilliant_ ," Harry said with a laugh. "You _at Hogwarts_. But then again, I guess you were basically there my whole first year too."

Tom rolled his eyes. "That does not _count_. Besides, I spent most of my time on Quirrell _resting_. I had to conserve my energy. I was barely even conscious."

"Ah, alright. Anyway, wow… a student at Hogwarts. That's certainly going to mix things up. But I will feel a lot better having you near by. Who knows what the hell is going to happen _next_ year. Most years whatever insanity disrupts my life is caused by _you_ , but it hasn't always… and who knows what Dumbledore is going to do when Voldemort stays disappeared."

"Hmm… yes. I'm going to have to address my old persona and his various responsibilities soon. I think I may spend the next couple days making plans on that front, actually."

"Oh yeah? What plans?"

"I haven't made them yet," Tom smirked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Right, right. Fine. I'll use the watch to call you up if I need anything or just want to, alright?"

"It's why I gave it to you," Tom smiled. "I should go. They're waiting for you."

"Right. Harry fidgeted for a moment before just pushing forward and pressing his lips against Tom's. Tom met the kiss seamlessly and wrapped his arms around Harry's lower back while Harry went for the shoulders. They only kissed for a short while, but it still left Harry feeling breathless. They pulled apart and Harry let out a contented sigh.

"Good night, Harry."

"Night, Tom."

— —


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Harry huffed out a breath of impatience. "How long does this usually take?" he whined.

Sirius snorted. "Uh, a long time."

"Really?" Harry said, opening his eyes and looking beseechingly at Sirius. Harry was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the sitting room while Sirius sat on the couch, reading a magazine.

"Becoming an animagus is an arduous and time-consuming process. It's not something you're going to have mastered by the time September first rolls around."

Harry groaned. "Okay, fine, so I won't be _done_ by then, but will I even be _started?_ I really don't think I get this meditation thing for finding my _inner animal."_

"Yeah, I had trouble with that part too," Sirius mused. "Really didn't have the patience for it. But James got it to work, so I _had_ to get it to work, for the sake of my pride."

Harry sighed and pushed himself up, groaning a bit at his sore legs and stretching them each to work out the kinks from having sat on the hard floor so long. "I'll give it another go later," Harry said coming over and dropping himself onto the couch beside Sirius.

"Mm," Sirius made a humming noise of acknowledgement. "So do you think your _beau_ has given it a shot yet?"

Harry felt himself flinch. "My what?"

Sirius snickered. "Remus seems to be under the impression that you and _Thomlyn_ are a couple. I told you that would happen if you guys used this cover story."

"Oh, heh, yeah," Harry said nervously.

Sirius continued to read whatever article he was on, although when Harry peaked at the page, he noticed that there were an awful lot of very attractive witches in the magazine, and not a lot of words... or clothing. Harry blushed and stood back up, sighing and wandering around the room aimlessly. He came to stand in front of the Black Family Tapestry and scanned the massive thing for familiar names.

"So many of these names repeat. It's confusing," Harry grumped a few minutes into his search. "I mean, I've seen _three_ Sirius Blacks on here so far, and the only reason I know this one is you is because it's all burned and messed up."

Sirius snickered. "Look for Phineas Nigellus. He's fairly high up and has a pretty prominent place so he's easier to find."

Harry searched for a moment longer. "Found him!"

"Alright, one of his sons was named Cygnus, see him?"

"Uuhmm… Ah! Found him."

"Now look for his daughter named Dorea."

"Here they are! Dorea Black married Charlus Potter. One son… James Potter," Harry said softly as he found his father's name in a very small leaf coming off of a twig that grew down from between Dorea and Charlus' names. "It's so small."

"The further away from the main Black paternal line, the less priority the information gets. You'll notice it doesn't mention Lily or you. You wouldn't find Ron's name on their either. The relation is too distanced, and again, it was a female Black marrying into another family, and after a generation of that family - the tapestry just stops caring."

"Ah," Harry said thoughtfully as he continued to scan the tapestry. He found a name he recognized and grimaced. "How come _Malfoy_ is on here, though?"

"Draco Malfoy? Well his mum was a Black. Dorea was a Black and you can see her son, James. That's just one step into another family's paternal tree, so it records that. But it will never display any info on whoever Draco marries, or any of his kids."

"Ah, right. Okay, I get it. Hey, here's Tonks! Great Merlin, is that really her first name? Nympha…"

"Nymphadora. Her mum and dad call her Dora, but if anyone else dares to call her anything but _Tonks_ , she'll hex their bits off."

Harry blinked owlishly at him. "Right. Tonks it is. Wow, she really is _Draco's cousin_. How weird. She's so nice, too. You'd never guess they were related."

Sirius snickered.

A knock on the door drew Harry's attention. It pushed open and Remus popped his head in. "How goes the animagus work?"

"No progress," Harry said with a sigh.

"Ah, well, I wanted to let you know that I just got a floo call from Molly Weasley. Hestia told her about how Sirius was back and that Harry was here now. She said something about coming through in a bit with Ron, Ginny, and Hermione."

"Hermione?" Harry echoed in surprise.

"Apparently she's staying with the Weasley's for the rest of the summer," Remus said with a shrug. "Hestia was the one who picked Hermione up from her house and took her to the Burrow. That's why she was there in the first place."

"Oh," Harry said, feeling a bit irritated by the thought of his friends hanging out over the summer, while he was isolated from the whole bloody wizarding world at the Dursley's. His summer so far would have been absolutely abysmal, if it weren't for Tom. Of course Harry had been invited to stay at the Burrow, but that had only happened because he'd been visiting Tom so much.

"Mind the company?" Sirius asked, looking over at Harry.

"Mind? No, sounds great," Harry said.

"Will you be… _telling_ them?" Remus asked with raised eyebrows.

"Oh… right," Harry hesitated. The mere notion of doing it was pretty stressful, but another part of him was excited. Plus, he really wanted to tell Ron and Hermione what he'd learned from the Sidhe about Dumbledore. He wanted to be as truthful with them as possible, but when it came to Tom's true identity, they'd be getting the same cover story that everyone else was getting.

Open-minded and acceptance has it's limits, and if Sirius was anything to go by, Harry was confident that Tom had little chance of being judged on his _current_ merits, if a person knew of his past.

Harry gave a sharp nod and looked back up at Remus and Sirius who were both looking at him questioningly. "Yes. I'll tell them."

Remus gave him a proud smile and Sirius just went back to his magazine.

"I'll go floo Molly and tell her it's fine to come through when they're ready," Remus said before departing the room.

"Are you going to let Ron and Hermione think that _Tom_ is your _boyfriend?"_ Sirius asked mockingly.

Harry sighed. He really dreaded the day Sirius realized that Tom really was his… er… thing.

It was entirely weird to think of Tom as a… _boyfriend_. Definitely didn't feel like the right word. But then again, what _was_ right? Nothing really fit.

"Yeah, probably," Harry said with a tired sigh, not really wanting to get into this with Sirius. "And, I think it'd be safer if we didn't talk openly about this stuff in rooms with magical portraits in them."

"Oh, aren't you being the cautious one," Sirius said in a sing-song voice.

"Did you know that Phineas Nigellus' portrait was in _my bedroom?_ " Harry asked pointedly.

Sirius frowned. "Is it? Huh… I thought that used to be in the hall outside Regulus' room…"

"It probably _was_. My bet is that Dumbledore moved it into my room before I got here last summer."

"Why would…." Sirius trailed off as his brow creased and a frown marred his features. "Former Headmaster… he has a portrait in Dumbledore's office," Sirius said with a dawning understanding. "Bloody hell, dirty, sneaky, old goat!"

"Yeah. And honestly, we have no idea what paintings or portraits he might have access to that have counterparts here in the house. Seems like the Drawing Room would be a prime place to put something like that."

Sirius growled darkly and began looking around the room. The longest wall was taken up entirely by the family tapestry, while the wall opposite it had the doors, and a lot of tall cabinets. But paintings interspersed the furniture in open spaces. One of the shorter walls was filled with windows, but the far wall opposite it had quite a few magical paintings. Sirius got up and started looking from one to the next, seeming to check for anything suspicious.

"I don't know this one," he said, as he paused at a landscape with a large oak tree in the foreground, shading a patch of grass at the edge of a lake.

"That one usually has a woman sitting in the shade under the tree," Harry said, coming up from behind Sirius. "

"Well, there's no one there right now," Sirius muttered before he reached up and pulled the painting down off the wall.

"I think I'll be moving _this_ into one of the cupboards. Lets keep looking. See if we come across any others."

The pair combed every room in the house and after nearly a half hour of searching, they had themselves a small stack of questionable paintings. Harry doubted they were _all_ spies, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Plus a couple of them were just plain _ugly_.

The whole stack ended up in Regulus' closet, on the floor, leaning against the wall face-first. Harry and Sirius were just leaving the room when Remus called up from the ground floor.

"We have guests!"

"Ah, the Weasley's commeth," Sirius joked.

Harry headed for the stairs and hurried down them. He reached the ground floor at the same time that Ron and Hermione, followed by Ginny, were making their way up the stairs from the basement kitchen.

"Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, running over and pulling him into a hug. Harry jerked back in surprise, but then relaxed and laughed at her enthusiasm.

"Hey, Hermione. Hey Ron! Ginny!"

Ron's mouth was twisted up in a mild scowl as Hermione pulled back and smiled at Harry. "Is it really true? Sirius is —?"

"Alive and well," Harry said with a wide grin and a nod.

"That's so incredible. Everyone seemed so convinced that going through that veil was a death sentence."

"Well, I'm glad they were wrong," Harry said with a shrug.

"I suppose no one really understands what it is or how it works - well, except possibly for the Unspeakables who work on it…" Hermione mused.

"So, Harry," Ron cut in then, "What's the deal with this bloke you were spotted with?"

"How'd you know about that?" Harry asked, mildly surprised.

"The Order has had a couple meetings at the Burrow and we _might_ have made use of some extendable ears," Ginny explained. "Plus, Fred and George are in it now, and they just straight up and told us."

"Oh," Harry said. "Er, well, what did they tell you?"

"Just that the Order members who were watching your muggle relatives house saw you coming and going with some bloke no one could identify, and that you'd been wandering off a lot," Ginny continued.

"Which was _really_ irresponsible of you, Harry!" Hermione scolded. "People are _trying_ to help keep you safe, but you aren't making it any easier by running off to Merlin knows where!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I was perfectly safe, Hermione."

"You can't _know_ that, Harry!"

"Fine, whatever. So was that it? That's all the Order knows?" Harry asked Ginny, dubiously.

"No, that was all they had at first. Apparently Dumbledore came and actually met this guy and did a background check and decided he was safe. _That_ was all they knew. Fred and George were really annoyed that they didn't get any more details than that, but apparently Dumbledore didn't think it was necessary to share."

"Huh. Well, yeah, I guess that's what Remus said too; that Dumbledore kind of left them all hanging…" Harry mused.

"So _who is he?"_ Ron pressed, impatiently.

"Uhhh… I guess we should find somewhere to sit. This might take a bit of explaining," Harry said, sheepishly, brushing his hand through his hair nervously.

"How about the Drawing Room," Hermione suggested and the group ended up making their way up the stairs and to the drawing room. Sirius was gone, so Harry figured he'd probably gone off to his own room. The four teenagers perched themselves in various chairs and along couches, so they were basically facing each other. Hermione sat next to Harry on a couch, and Harry couldn't help but notice the disgruntled expression that flashed across Ron's face when he hesitated there a moment before sitting in an armchair opposite them instead.

"Right… uhm," Harry began hesitantly. "Okay…" Harry pulled in a deep breath and pushed it back out again. "So last year, when all that stuff was going on with Cho? You know how she and I kissed right before winter break started?"

Hermione looked at him curiously and nodded.

"Well… I think that was one of the first real clues I had that something really wasn't working the way it was… supposed to, I guess. But I kind of argued with myself about it, because it was a pretty awkward kiss, _anyway_ , what with her _crying_ and all. But I did end up considering some other things a month later, in late January… But I gave her another shot in February, what with her asking me to Hogsmeade for Valentines. But _that_ was just _awful_. Seriously the most awkward moment of my life."

"What does this have to do with —" Ron began, looking utterly bewildered, but Hermione silenced him with a _look_ and he shut up.

Harry cleared his voice. "So… in January I sort of accidentally stumbled across this magazine with an ad in it for this anonymous support group thing. Where you sign up for it, and you get assigned a random penpal. The two of you each get one of a set of vanishing boxes where you put something in one and slide the lid closed, and it instantly vanishes and appears in the other box. It's so you can send letters back and forth, and keep it anonymous. No owls, no need to know their real name, no need to know a real address."

"What sort of support group," Hermione asked gently, and something in her eyes told Harry, she had already figured him out. Which seemed kind of crazy considering how long it had taken for _Harry_ to actually figure it out.

"A support group for gay teens?" Harry said, though it came out sounding more like a hesitant question than a statement.

Ginny's face went blank instantly. Ron looked confused.

"But why would you care about a support group for… gay… bloody hell Harry! Are you saying you're gay?"

"Er… yes?" Harry said, almost wincing.

"Holy shite…" Ron muttered, his eyes gone wide with shock before a look of horror crossed them. "You don't fancy me, right?"

Harry burst out in an incredulous cough of a laugh. "No! Definitely _not_."

"Fwew… right. Well, we're fine then. That would have made things really weird."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Very weird."

"You don't fancy any of the other guys, do you?" Ron asked, pinning Harry with a narrow gaze.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "Nah. Never really thought about them all like that."

"Good. Because _that_ would be weird too. And knowing Seamus, he'd probably have a go at it, if you offered. I think he'd jump anyone if they were willing. Not that I think he swings that way, but I think he's just horny and doesn't care much."

Harry laughed and Hermione scolded Ron disapprovingly.

Ginny's face remained stoney and blank.

"Wait… so who's this bloke?" Ron said, a look of dawning suspicion gracing his freckled face.

Harry grinned. "My penpal. We've been writing back and forth since January… I know I should have told you guys sooner, but I really needed time to sort my head out and talking with him helped loads. Plus part of me was still kind of terrified how you'd react…"

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione said, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a hug. "I can't even imagine! You should have known you could tell us. Something like this isn't going to change our opinion of you!"

Harry couldn't help but notice that Ron no longer looked so disgruntled by his proximity to Hermione, and part of him smiled and chuckled at that.

"I know Hermione… but like I said, I still needed to wrap my head around it. And I wasn't honestly convinced I _was_ gay. For a while I kept telling myself that maybe I was just bi…" Harry flushed with embarrassment as he had a wave of anxiety scurry its way through his gut at being so uncomfortably honest about this sort of thing. "Erm… right… but I guess after the last few weeks, I'm pretty sure that I really just don't fancy girls at all, the way I fancy… boys."

"Oh? What's happened the last _few weeks_ that made you come to this conclusion?" Hermione asked, as a curious grin curled her lips.

Harry chuckled and ducked his head in embarrassment. "My penpal? His name is Thomlyn Moore. Thomlyn and I… sort of… are involved. Okay - _dating_. We're dating."

Hermione let out the most girlish squeak Harry had ever heard her make, before hugging him again. "Oh that's so exciting Harry! I'm so happy for you!"

"Er, thanks," Harry replied with a weak laugh.

"Well, what all do you actually _know_ about this guy?" Ginny asked, sounding skeptical, and frowning. "How can you be sure he's not a Death Eater in hiding?"

"I know quite a lot," Harry hedged slowly, "and when he and I first met, it was anonymous. He had no idea who he was writing to."

"It could have been rigged by the company that assigns matches and sends out the post boxes," Ginny argued.

"That… doesn't seem very likely," Harry said slowly. "It'd be quite a stretch for Voldemort to have a spy on staff for a gay wizard support group, _just in case_ I wrote in to sign up for the penpal service."

Ginny rolled her eyes and huffed. "Fine, but I'm saying it _could_ have happened."

"Point noted," Harry said appeasingly. "But Dumbledore did a full background on him and didn't find anything. He even wants Thomlyn to transfer to Hogwarts and managed to talk him into it. Of course, he probably just didn't want to risk that I'd be sneaking off school grounds every other day to meet up with him, and figured bringing Thomlyn _onto_ school grounds was the best way to avoid that."

"Wait, so this guy is coming to Hogwarts?" Ginny said, sounding borderline horrified.

"Where was he going to school before this?" Hermione asked.

"He was self-educated. But he took his OWL exams last year, so Dumbledore says he'd qualify for 6th year classes in the five subjects he got OWLs in."

"Self-educated?!" Hermione exclaimed. "How's that even possible!?"

"He's an orphan," Harry said. "He was bumped through the muggle foster system, but ended up with some pretty bad eggs. Nasty experiences, and he ran away when he was eight. Ended up living on the street in Northeast London, scrounging around and making due, all on his own. He missed his Hogwarts letter, if he even got one, but he did get a letter from the Ministry with a packet of information they send to wizarding children living in the muggle world, who don't choose to go to Hogwarts. So that's how he found out about the magical world."

"Oh my god! That's awful! Living on the streets and homeless at age _ten_?" Hermione gasped.

Harry gave her a weak grin, "Apparently, he's a stellar pick-pocket. But he hasn't done that stuff in years. Honestly, you'd never guess his origins if you met him today. Presenting himself as more than all that has been a big priority for him for years. He doesn't want to be judged by his beginnings. Originally he had this thick cockney accent - it's _so weird_ to hear him speak in it -but he's managed to perfect a really posh Southern accent that he uses now, instead. Just so people don't hear him speak and figure out where he's from. He worked his arse off to get educated with no real guidance or help. He's a prodigy, really. He picks things up like it was second nature. Honestly, Hermione, you'd love him. He's the only person I've ever met that I think reads more than _you_ do."

"That's _really_ incredible. That would take some serious dedication," Hermione said.

"How old is he?" Ginny asked.

"He's seventeen, but he turns eighteen in the spring," Harry replied.

"And he's coming into sixth year?" Ginny said, in a rather judging tone.

"Well, he's only got OWL results. There's no grades from any other schools he can use in his application," Harry said with a shrug.

"I for one think it's really incredible that he _can_ still come to Hogwarts, without any previous school records. Honestly, being a _self-taught seventeen year old_ and still being in line with the sixteen year olds who _have_ gotten a proper education, is astonishing!" Hermione argued.

"Actually, he could probably pass his NEWTs right now if he tried," Harry mused. "He's actually got a load of knowledge in some _really_ obscure branches of magic. Stuff I'm not sure they even teach at Hogwarts."

Hermione frowned now. " _Obscure?_ Like what?"

"Well, magical painting for one," Harry laughed. "Did you guys notice that Mrs. Black's portrait didn't scream our ears off downstairs?"

Ron blinked. "You're right!"

"Thomlyn knew the spell needed to silence her!"

"He did?! How?! I know loads of Order members tried _all sorts_ of different silencing spells and other things, when it became obvious she couldn't be unstuck from the wall, but nothing worked!" Hermione protested.

"He said that the trick was that he used a spell that a magical painting artist would use. He silenced her _inside_ the portrait, rather than trying to silence the portrait. Or something like that. He described it like, if someone from some other portrait walked into Mrs. Black's frame, _they_ could still make noise, but Mrs. Black would still be silenced, even to them. And if Mrs. Black left her frame and went into someone else's painting, she'd still be silenced because _she's_ been silenced, not the painting."

"Is that actually possible?" Hermione asked, looking baffled.

"He says that there's practically a whole branch of magic to magical painting. He says that people really underestimate the amount of work that goes into making the really lifelike paintings that seem intelligent and can interact believably."

"Fascinating… I'll have to look into that," Hermione muttered, looking thoughtful. "So he's an artist?"

"Er… not much… I don't think," Harry hesitated. "He just likes to learn everything he can about everything he can. So… a lot like _you_ , actually."

Hermione blushed but smiled somewhat happily at that.

"So, if he was homeless as a kid," Ginny cut in, "what is he now? Does he live with someone?"

"He tracked down his father when he was fifteen. Him mum was a muggle, but a genealogy spell told him that his dad was a wizard, and he managed to find him."

"Oh! That's fantastic!" Hermione said happily.

"Eh… not as fantastic as you'd hope. His father was already dying when he found him. His father was a potioneer who supplied the local apothecary with ready-made potions to sell in the store for those who don't have the time or skill to brew their own. But he tended to work with dangerous ingredients a lot, and never took proper precautions, so he'd come down with some sort of dementia… fel something…"

Hermione gasped, "Fel Abusus? Oh, that's terrible. I've read about that, and it's a terrible way to go. There's no treatment for it either."

"Yeah, well, his dad was already sick when he found him. But he looked after him until he died, so now he's got his father's old house, and took up the job of supplying potions to the apothecary on the side for some money."

"He's good with potions?" Hermione asked interested.

"Oh he's brilliant with them," Harry said enthusiastically.

"Is there anything he _isn't_ brilliant with," Ginny sniped.

"What's your problem?!" Ron asked in annoyance.

"Nothing. I haven't got a problem," Ginny said defiantly, standing up. "I'm going to see if Mum needs any help." And with that, she left.

"Well that was just _weird_ ," Ron muttered, looking utterly confused. Then he looked worried and turned to Harry, "that's not because she's got a thing against gay people! So don't worry about that. I mean, she's _fine_ with Charlie! I don't know what's gotten into her!"

"Hmm… I think I do," Hermione said knowingly, looking at the door to the drawing room where Ginny had stormed out a moment earlier.

"You do? What is it?" Ron asked.

Hermione sighed and looked between Ron and Harry, who both looked entirely confused. "You two are _so_ thick, I _swear,"_ she shook her head and sighed heavily.

"What am I missing?" Harry asked.

"Harry," Hermione began, turning to face him. "Ginny has had a crush on your since before she even _met_ you."

Harry blinked. "What? She got over that ages ago! I thought she was dating Dean?"

"Harry, she fancied you even _before_ you saved her from You-Know-Who's 16-yr old ghost, and a giant basilisk. You honestly think she could _really_ just _get over that?"_

"Well, I mean… she hasn't acted all weird around me in ages. I mean, when she was a first year, she couldn't even _talk_ around me. But she's been perfectly normal for ages now. She was never weird or anything around me, during the DA," Harry argued. "And, you know - she's dated other blokes, right?" Harry looked at Ron who twisted up his mouth in a sign of disapproval, but he nodded his head.

Hermione huffed. "She gained a little confidence. That's all. She realized that she was never going to get your attention if she couldn't even _speak_ around you! She'd been trying to prove to you that she's her own person, and not just _Ron's little sister_ , all last year."

"Okay, but still - _dating other people!"_ Harry insisted again.

"Honestly, I think she was hoping you'd get jealous," Hermione said in exasperation.

"So… you think she's upset because… I'm gay. But not because she's got a thing against gay blokes, just because she fancied me." Harry said slowly.

Hermione nodded. "That's _exactly_ what I think."

"Oh," Harry grimaced.

Ron grimaced deeply. "Merlin… that would have been _really_ weird." When Harry looked at him with obvious confusion, Ron elaborated. "I mean, if you hadn't been gay, and you'd hooked up with my _sister_. That _would_ have been weird."

Harry sighed and leaned back in the couch he was sitting in. "I hope she gets over it soon. I'd hate for things to be really weird between us now…"

"She just needs some time to process it," Hermione reassured him gently.

Harry huffed out a breath and sat forward again. "Anyway, seeing as how she left on her own, there's some really important stuff I need to talk to you two about."

Ron and Hermione perked up instantly.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"I think we'd be safer talking in my room. There are no magical portraits there anymore, and even though Sirius and I looked through these, there's no guarantee we caught everything…"

"Magical portraits?" Ron echoed in confusion.

"Just follow me," Harry said, standing up. The three left the drawing room and made their way to Harry's bedroom, where he shut the door behind them. He pulled out his wand and aimed it at the door.

"Harry! What are you doing!" Hermione gasped as Harry cast a quick sound ward that Tom had shown him earlier.

Harry turned and grinned back at them. "Turns out that Sirius' dad was so paranoid against the Ministry, that one of the wards he put on Grimmauld Place was a ward that blocks all incoming and outgoing signals related to Ministry spells. Including, _the Trace_. I asked Sirius about it, and it turns out we can cast magic in this house, all we want, and the Ministry can't detect it."

"Whoa, Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione looked conflicted, and continued to frown at him. "Just because you _can_ , doesn't mean that you should! We're _under aged_ Harry!"

"Oh stuff it, Hermione," Ron groaned. "It's not like it's gonna hurt anyone if we cast a few spells over the summer!"

Hermione glared at him and Ron flinched back slightly, grimacing and then going to sit on Harry's bed with hunched shoulders.

Harry chuckled before pulling in a deep breath, grabbing the desk chair and sliding it out so he could sit and face his friends.

"This is _huge_. What I'm about to tell you… it's changed _everything_. It seriously messed me up for quite a while… honestly, I'm still pretty messed up about it sometimes. But… well, I just really need you guys to know the truth."

Ron and Hermione looked between each other before giving their full attention to Harry. The next hour was spent detailing everything that had happened to him after he ran from the Death Chamber at the Ministry, the night of the attack. From chasing Bellatirx to the Atrium, to Voldemort appearing, to _Dumbledore_ appearing - their duel, and then - when everything stopped. He told them about the Sidhe appearing, and everything that she told him.

They both looked _ill_ when he was done.

"I can't believe it," Hermione whispered in horror, with her hands cupped over her face. "It's horrible."

Ron looked even more pale than usual, and it made his freckles stick out starkly. "You're sure it was a real Dadguddiwr? That it wasn't maybe some sort of trick setup by You-Know-Who? You said he had possessed you right before this happened - is it possible that he just made you _see_ all that, and it never really happened?"

Harry frowned. "Uhm… I honestly don't think he faked it. Plus, she's come to see me once since then, and Voldemort wasn't anywhere nearby. I was at the Dursley's in my room the second time I saw her."

Ron's brows raised. "Oh… well, could you maybe have been having a vision or something, then?"

"No… I'm sure I was totally awake for the whole thing. It definitely wasn't a hallucination or vision or anything like that."

Ron heaved a defeated sigh and slumped back against the wall from his position sitting on Harry's bed.

"What did she tell you the second time you saw her?" Hermione asked.

"She told me that Voldemort was about to perform the ritual to restore the detached pieces of his soul and that it would change him. She said that she'd tricked him into doing it, but that it was going to mess with him in ways he didn't expect. She seemed really quite amused by that," Harry rolled his eyes.

"Mess with him, how so?" Hermione pressed, curiously.

Harry frowned, and scratched at his head. He still didn't intend to tell them anything about Tom's true identity, so giving any hint that he'd seen Voldemort since the Ministry was probably a bad idea. Finally he decided to just play dumb on that front and figure it out later.

"She didn't really elaborate. She just seemed to suggest that whatever happened was going to change things a lot."

"Hmm…" Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "I wonder if this could have anything to do with the fact that You-Know-Who hasn't been seen since then. That's what the twins said, anyway, right?" Hermione asked, turning to Ron.

"Yeah, they said that there's been no sign of him since the Ministry and it's got the Order all edgy and confused."

"You know, Harry," Hermione began, turning back to him, "I actually looked into these Welsh Sidhe more after you mentioned them the day before we left Hogwarts. It sort of caught my curiosity when you asked about them, but I certainly never imagined that _this_ … well, I don't suppose _anyone_ could ever imagine _this…_ " She huffed out a flustered breath and still looked visibly upset but seemed to calm herself a bit a moment later. "So they're called Dadguddiwr, which is Welsh meaning, a revealer, or 'one who brings things to light'. From what I found, they're usually called 'of the old people', which is a sort of fae species with a lot of magical powers that aren't well understood. Generally they're just considered a sort of mischief maker because a lot of what they do tends to cause chaos. But it _is_ true that they can't _lie_. Something about the magic they use won't let them lie to people, which is why they like to find secrets that tend to ruin people's lives, since they can cause the most devastation, while being entirely honest."

Ron snorted. "Well, this easily qualifies as something that could 'ruin lives'."

"So if she really was a Dadguddiwr, then…" Hermione pulled in a shaky breath, "then, what she told you is _true_."

"Dumbledore set my parents up and used me as bait," Harry said in a flat tone.

Hermione closed her eyes and her brow creased as she nodded solemnly. "It's horrible," she whispered a moment later. "I still can't believe it. I can't believe that he'd…"

"Willingly sacrifice my parents, let Sirius remain in Azkaban even though he knew it was really Pettigrew, leave me with the Dursley's and then try to work every possibility opportunity presented to maneuver me and Voldemort into a conflict so that he'd kill me? Yeah," Harry said with bitter sarcasm.

"It's horrible," Hermione whispered again, shaking her head disbelievingly.

"What I don't get is how You-Know-Who killing you is supposed to hurt _him_ ," Ron said, frowning.

Harry looked uncomfortable. "I _did_ explain it, Ron," he muttered, still not liking going into this particular detail too much with his friends. "It's because of our souls. Hurting me is like hurting himself."

"But — I mean, you're two different people…" Ron said, still looking confused. "But his soul got tied to yours somehow when you were a baby?"

Hermione looked exasperated, "Ron, were you even listening?"

"I was listening!" Ron said defensively. "It was just sort of a lot to try and understand all at once. Can you blame me for not following every detail?"

"Harry's soul _is_ You-Know-Who's soul. They _share_ a soul. Harry's soul _was_ just a piece of You-Know-Who's soul but it broke off and became an independent individual. Like how the diary from second year became it's own separate person that didn't know anything of what You-Know-Who had done with his life and tried to regain an body and come back using Ginny."

Harry cringed. Being compared to a part of Voldemort that had gone and tried to kill Ron's sister was far from the most flattering comparison.

Ron looked horrified. "Wait, whut?"

"Of course the biggest difference is that the diary soul-piece held all of the sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle's memories because it was placed into an enchanted diary. Harry's piece of the soul was a blank slate put into an infant's body, so he was able to grow and develop into a _normal_ person."

"Y-your saying that _Harry_ is just… _part_ of _You-Know-Who?!_ " Ron stuttered out horsely. "That's insane! She's not serious, is she Harry?"

Harry had his face in his hands but he sighed and raised his head, looking at Ron with resignation. "She's got it exactly right, Ron. Voldemort's soul has been broken up into a whole bunch of separate pieces and each piece has the potential to become another individual. And… that's what I am. I didn't really _survive_ the killing curse that night. The soul that was in my body originally was cut loose and the piece of Voldemort's soul that broke off took its place. And _that's_ me. Dumbledore has known it since the night it happened, and so he's been trying to use me to find the rest of Voldemort, but also plans to use me to get Voldemort to hurt himself… you know, by trying to kill me."

"It certainly makes the nightmares and the visions make a lot more sense," Hermione mused thoughtfully.

"How does _any_ of this _make sense?"_ Ron squeaked incredulously. "How is it even possible to break a soul into multiple pieces, anyway?!"

"Voldemort did it to try and make himself immortal," Harry said tiredly. "He discovered something called a 'horcrux'. It's an object that you put a piece of your soul in, so it acts like an anchor. It chains your main soul to this world, even if your body dies. Normally the body is the only thing holding a soul here, and if the body dies - the soul moves on. With a horcrux, you've got an extra anchor, keeping your soul here, and providing the opportunity to find a way to get your soul into some other body."

"Blimey," Ron whispered in horror.

"Which means I'm basically a horcrux," Harry said with a sigh. "It's why Dumbledore has been secretly aiming to get me killed since I got to Hogwarts."

"Bloody hell, this is _mental_ ," Ron exclaimed.

"It seems so hard to believe… that he would really do that," Hermione said with a miserable voice. "It just seems like there's got to be some explanation… Something to explain how he could do something like that…"

"There is," Harry said flatly. "He believes that he's trying to save wizarding Britain. He believes that he has to destroy Voldemort, at all costs. _No matter what_. There is nothing he wouldn't sacrifice, for that goal. My life, and all of the suffering I might endure, is just an unfortunate sacrifice for the greater good. I'm only a tool for him, in achieving his goal. But if all he wanted was to destroy the anchor I provide to Voldemort, he would have killed me when I was a baby and this had _just_ happened. But it's more than destroying one of Voldemort's horcruxes. He decided to use me to find other horcruxes, or use me as a weapon against Voldemort. He knew that whatever he would use me for, it would be to try and hurt Voldemort. He might not have even known at the time _what_ I could be used for, but he saw me as a tool and a weapon, and that's all I've _ever_ been to him. Everything else has been a lie."

"But how can you know that for sure, Harry?" Hermione asked. "How do you know he doesn't really care?"

"How can a person actually _care_ about someone, but still make every effort to make sure they end up dead? That's just stupid! He insisted I stay in the Triwizard Tournament because he knew it would probably kill me, or even better, I'd end up face to face with Voldemort again. I _didn't have to do that bloody thing!_ He completely convinced me that I had no choice! Believe me, if I'd known I had the option to say 'hell no!' and walk away, _I would have_. And those Occlumency lessons with Snape last year? Hah - yeah, that was all rubbish too. He wasn't having Snape _teach me occlumency_ , he was having Snape tear my mental barriers to shreds, so I'd have no natural defenses against Voldemort anymore. He wanted me to have another vision so I'd run off and fall into one of Voldemort's traps."

"Oh!" Hermione gasped miserably, her hands covering her mouth and her head shaking. "It's so horrible. I don't want to believe it."

"And this is all stuff that the Dadguddiwr told you?" Ron asked.

"How can you pronounce that word so easily?" Harry twisted up his face at Ron. "I just call it a Sidhe… much easier."

Ron rolled his eyes, "Whatever. Anyway, this is all stuff that the sidhe told you?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a tired nod. "She had time frozen in there for quite a while, explaining it all. She got a real kick out of it all too. I swear, the more upset I got, the more fun she was having."

"Sounds about right," Ron grumbled.

"And You-Know-Who knows all of this too," Hermione murmured thoughtfully. "You know, it's especially interesting to know that he's all but vanished since this happened. The Order and the Death Eaters are both completely confused by his disappearance, if what Fred and George say is true."

"Mm," Harry hummed noncommittally.

"I wonder what he's doing…" Ron muttered.

"No idea," Harry said looking away distractedly. "Can't say I mind the idea that he won't be trying to kill me anymore. Of course now I have to worry about what way Dumbledore is going to try and kill me next, and I suppose I spend a lot more time around him."

"Merlin…" Ron groaned. "But… but what _about_ You-Know-Who? I mean… if he really can't die as long as you live… I mean, what are you going to do?"

"I really don't know, Ron. I have _no idea_. Right now I'm just going to focus on surviving the next two years and then getting as far away from Dumbledore as possible."

"But what about _You-Know-Who?_ " Ron persisted.

Harry huffed out a sigh. "I'll just have to wait and see, alright? He's not even doing anything right now. Who knows what he's going to do now that he knows this. Plus, the Sidhe said that he'd be changed by putting his soul back together."

"Changed _how?"_ Ron persisted. "You can't honestly think he's going to suddenly up and decide that he doesn't want to wage a war anymore and go vacation in Morocco?"

Harry couldn't help the snort that came out at that before he just sighed and shrugged. "Right now, I just _don't know_. Alright? I can't exactly make plans when I'm missing so many important pieces of information. I'll just tackle stuff as it comes at me, like I always have. Things have always been kept from me, and I've managed to survive so far. Now I've got some vital information that I didn't have before. But there's still loads that I don't know."

"You're right, Harry," Hermione agreed. "We'll just have to try and be as prepared as possible and tackle things as they came. I for one am going to start looking into this horcrux stuff. Maybe I can find some information about dominant parts of souls - I mean, there has to be _some_ precedent for a split soul becoming two separate people."

Harry gave her a rather skeptical look. "I… rather doubt you're going to find much."

"Well, I've got to at least _look,"_ she insisted.

"Yeah, but _where_ will you look?" Ron asked, looking equally dubious. "That's got to be some _really_ nasty magic. As Dark as it comes! Where are you even going to _find_ something like that?"

Hermione frowned thoughtfully for a moment before looking up and glancing around the room. "The Blacks were a notoriously Dark family… Harry do you know if there's a family cache of books?"

Harry just shrugged. "I dunno."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, lets ask Sirius. Knowing him and his dislike for his family, they're either in storage or they've been binned. _Hopefully_ they haven't been binned. Honestly, throwing out books, even if they're full of nasty magic, is just _wrong_. I would hope Sirius would know better than to do something like that."

"You know, the Sidhe did mention a specific book when talking to Voldemort," Harry said.

Hermione blinked at him. "She did?"

"Yeah, she said it was by some Indian wizard named… B - b-something… Bin… Bindi? I think it was Bindi. The first name started with an R I think, but I really don't remember. She said it was only written like a decade ago, so if Sirius does have some books, I don't think it'd have any chance of being in there."

"Why would she tell him to look up a book?" Ron asked looking perplexed.

"I think she wanted him to find an outside source that proved he'd been doing it wrong," Harry said with a shrug. "Apparently he improvised a lot of his Horcrux stuff when he was a kid because he couldn't find any reliable sources with details on the process. But it means there were some important bits of information about the process he never knew about. Like, the fact that splitting your soul into a bunch of pieces will make you insane and turn you into a psychopath."

Ron snorted.

"Well, it's worth asking Sirius about his family's books anyway," Hermione said, standing up. "I'll have to look into that book you mentioned when I get back to the Burrow. I've got a couple mail-order book dealers I've used in the past for things I couldn't find in Diagon Alley… I'll check the latest catalog they sent me for anything that looks like it might fit. Do you have any more details about it?"

"Uhh… I think she said this guy wrote the book after an expedition to New Guinea?" Harry said, remembering some of what Tom had told him about the book. He didn't really see any harm in Hermione finding it. It might actually be really nice to have her input on it, actually.

"Alright, that might help a lot, actually," Hermione said nodding her head. "Well then, lets go talk to Sirius."

— —


	16. Chapter 16

AN: This chapter is a bit short compared to the rest, but it was either have a 9 page chapter, or a 35 page chapter, so I did this instead.

— — —

Chapter 16

Rufus Scrimgeour appeared in a flash of green flames in the floo hearth of his home in West Brompton. Out of habit, he instantly reset the ward on the floo that prevented anyone else from coming through. Several candles along the top of the mantle lit automatically upon his arrival, but most of the room was still rather dim.

He turned to face the room at large, heaving a heavy sigh and tossing his cloak off to fall over the back of a nearby armchair. He moved to flick his wand and turn the rest of the lights on but his wand suddenly flew from his hand. He twisted instinctively towards where he knew the attack had originated, but before he could even finish his move his entire body froze in another flash of light. He couldn't move a muscle. He began to fall backwards but another spell hit him, stopping his fall and holding him in place. He could barely even breath, the bodybinding spell was so strong, and the second spell was cast incredibly fast.

Inside his mind he screamed and scolded himself for his negligence, but another part of his mind was stunned by the mere notion that someone could have possibly penetrated his wards and gotten into his home. He'd had ultimate faith in those wards. There were only two or three people who even knew how they worked… the idea that any of those people could have betrayed him was unfathomable.

Then he felt himself being moved; levitated through the air and slowly turned. He felt the bodybind loosen in some places, but not others and his mind boggled over how that was even possible. Who had control over the bodybind spell to that extent? The spell didn't _work like that._ It had to be some other spell that Rufus wasn't familiar with.

His body levitated down and he found himself now in a sitting position in one of his armchairs, facing a figure standing along the back wall, mostly obscured by shadows and silhouetted by the twilight leaking through the curtained windows.

"Good evening, Head Auror Scrimgeour. Or perhaps I should say, _Minister_ Scrimgeour? _"_ The man spoke, but his voice was distorted through a spell. "Of course, that's not official, _quite yet._ There's still the chance that honor might go to Madam Bones, isn't there?"

The man flicked a wand in his hand and Rufus felt the bind on his face and throat loosen. He moved his mouth and tongue experimentally, swallowing thickly and clearing his throat before speaking. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What do you want? Are you here to kill me?!"

The man in the shadows chuckled. "If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead."

"Then what do you want? You won't get away with this, you know. There's two aurors stationed outside my house now. They'll check on me before too long."

"No they won't," the man said in a bored, confident tone. Rufus swallowed the fear, trying to clear his mind and come up with a plan. He'd been an auror for more than thirty years. He'd gotten out of worse situations before! He tried testing the limits of the binding spell, but quickly found that he couldn't move a damned thing anymore. Just his face.

"What do you want!?" he boomed as fiercely as he could, given his position.

"I want to propose a deal. The first of several, if things go well."

Rufus' eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What sort of deal?"

"A mutually beneficial deal, I would say. We'll work up to the most beneficial with several smaller deals first. If you work with me to my satisfaction, I guarantee that my final gift to you will be most desirable."

"I don't deal with terrorists," Rufus growled.

"I'm no terrorist. Let's call me a _spy_. Right now, I can give you the Death Eater that was responsible for Voldemort's resurrection. The man who sought him out in his weakened and banished state. The man who helped him to regain his strength; created him a temporary body; helped brew his resurrection potion, and was responsible for performing it in the end while holding Harry Potter prisoner until the ritual could be completed. The public is in a state of panic, Head Auror. The capture of such an individual would be quite a boost to public confidence in their elected leaders, I would think. It would also certainly make _you_ look good to your peers in the Ministry and in the House of Lords. Surely anyone who could make such a dramatic display so soon after the incident at the Ministry would be guaranteed the honor of being Minister. Don't you think?"

Rufus stared long and hard at the shadowed figure across the room, wondering what motive this man had for going to such dramatic lengths, just to offer up a Death Eater. "What would you want in return for this man?" he asked suspiciously.

"I would ask that you push for a reexamining of Lucius Malfoy's sentencing term."

Rufus barked out an incredulous laugh. "You're out of your mind if you think we'll let Malfoy go."

"I didn't say _let him go_ , just reduce his sentence. The man doesn't deserve life in Azkaban. He didn't kill anyone in that raid on the Ministry. In fact, _no one_ died. It can't be proven that he was the one responsible for _any_ of the damage to persons in the attack. The only reason he partook in the battle at all was due to being under extreme duress. He knew if he refused to participate in the attack that Voldemort would murder his whole family. Torturing them to death, was most likely, in fact."

Rufus scoffed. "You would claim that Malfoy was only being a Death Eater because he was afraid You-Kow-Who would kill him?"

"I would claim just that, yes. It is true that he joined willingly in his youth. He was never under the Imperius in the last war, though he did little to nothing that would be worth incarceration, anyway. In this instance, however, when Voldemort returned the night of the third task, and summoned the Death Eaters to him, those who did not answer the summons were all killed within weeks. None survived. In that regard, Lucius had enough foresight to know better than to run or hide. He returned that night because he knew if he did not, it would cost him his life.

"After that, Voldemort chose Malfoy's home as his new base of operations, not because Malfoy offered, but because it was the nicest and most lavish of his follower's residences, and the only one _Lord Voldemort_ considered suitable for himself. Lucius had no option to refuse. This put him in an even greater sense of impending doom since the Dark Lord was now almost constantly, within near proximity to Lucius' wife and son. He spent the next year in a state of constant fear for the life of his family and for himself. He no doubt was exceedingly relieved when Draco went to school in the fall. This is also the one and only winter where Draco remained at Hogwarts during the holidays. His father didn't want him anywhere near the Dark Lord, if he could help it. And of course, after that, the Azkaban escapees were in his house, whether he liked it or not, and _that_ was an utter nightmare as they were all utterly out of their minds and weak and filthy. Can you imagine the hygiene habits of a man who has lived in his own filth for a decade? Suddenly being out of Azkaban does not instantly fix that. Honestly, having to house his sister-in-law, Bellatrix, is probably punishment enough for a lifetime of sins."

"So you want to exchange this other Death Eater for Malfoy?" Rufus asked, dubiously.

"I want you to take the extenuating circumstances of Lucius' forced service under duress into consideration with his sentence," the stranger corrected. "Life in Azkaban is unreasonable. I also suspect Lucius could be persuaded to provide details on certain individuals currently under Imperius within the Ministry."

Rufus' interest piqued with that. None of the Death Eaters had been willing to give up any information after they were captured last month. "If he was under such duress, why not use that as a defense when he was arrested?"

The stranger laughed.

"Voldemort was still in _his home_ , Auror Scrimgeour. He has since vanished, of course, but Lucius was certainly not going to risk his family even further by attempting to recant his loyalty."

"Why would he suddenly be willing to make a deal now? What makes his situation any different now?"

"Voldemort is no longer residing with the Malfoys, not that he couldn't still pay them a visit and torture and maim them if he so desired. But circumstances have changed. Let Narcissa speak with Lucius. He'll talk."

Rufus considered him for a long moment. "Who is this other Death Eater?"

"Peter Pettigrew. He was also responsible for the betrayal of the Potters back in '81. That could probably make for some good publicity as well, actually."

"Sirius Black betrayed the Potters," Rufus snapped. "In fact… Pettigrew was _killed_ by Black.

"No, Sirius Black couldn't have killed Peter Pettigrew, because Pettigrew is _not dead_. Black also could not have betrayed the Potters, as Black was not their Secret Keeper. Pettigrew was the real secret keeper, Black was the decoy. Little did Black or the Potters realize, but Pettigrew had already gone over and become a Death Eater spy for Voldemort. He faked his death and intentionally framed Black for his crimes. He's been free and in hiding ever since."

Rufus stared at the man in disbelief as he tried to process this. "But that would mean that Black was innocent."

"Yes, he is. Fudge knew this as well, actually… well, he was _told_ about it, anyway. Not that he listened."

"Told by who?"

"Hmmm… let's see - who else has Fudge been told important things by, and then subsequently ignored and insisted was falsified…?"

"Dumbledore?"

"And Potter. In fact, if you were to clear Black's name, I'd say you'd have Potter's full gratitude and support. Might even manage to convince him to pose for a photo op and an endorsement for your bid for the Ministerial post."

Rufus huffed out an annoyed-sounding growl. He did not like all these suggestions that bordered far to close to _bribery_ than he liked. "So… you think you can get me Pettigrew?"

"I know I can."

"And in exchange, you want Malfoy's sentence reduced?"

"Correct."

"Nothing else?"

"Not yet."

Rufus growled in frustration. "What _else_ might I expect you to be asking for in the future?"

"Nothing specific comes to mind at the moment. I suppose it'll depend on how other events unfold, first. I swear it'll never be anything too unreasonable, though."

"If that was all you needed to say to me, than why go to such lengths? Why break into my home? Why restrain me like this?" Rufus asked angrily.

"My identity _must_ remain anonymous."

"Are you a Death Eater?"

Rufus heard a small amused chuckle escape from the man's mouth. He reached down and pulled up the left-sleeve of his robe baring his forearm and extending it out into the room enough that it caught some of the dim light from the candles on the hearth.

"No mark on me," the man said.

Rufus scrutinized the man's forearm for the brief time it was extended, but saw nothing there. There were no spells that could obscure the Dark Mark. You-Know-Who didn't like his followers being able deny their loyalty to him, as little sense as that made for a secret terrorist organization.

"If you're not a Death Eater, how is it that you know what you know? How is it that you think you can guarantee me Pettigrew?"

"Complicated questions with complicated answers. Also _private_ answers, and hardly details you need to know. All that matters is that I'll have Pettigrew delivered to you tomorrow night. Where do you want him?"

— —

Tom strode calmly up the path to the front entrance of Malfoy Manor, garbed in his traditional Dark Lord robes and sporting his fully transfigured appearance. He knocked on the door once and then pushed them open and walked in, closing the doors behind him. This time, he would not wait _outside_ , because it was honestly not something that _Lord Voldemort_ would tolerate. But he would wait in the entry hall. He figured that was a reasonable compromise.

While he waited, he reached into his robes and extracted a drawstring pouch. He proceeded to pull the bag open, stretching it farther than would appear possible and then holding it out into air as if he were placing it upon table or shelf. It stayed exactly where he left it, floating in mid air. He then waved his hand over it and a series of books began to float out and stack themselves in mid-air beside it.

"My Lord?" Narcissa Malfoy's voice echoed from one of the archways that entered into the entry hall.

"Good evening, Narcissa," He said in greeting. "I am finished with these books. Shall I send them off to the library, or would you like to take them?"

"I - oh, you can send them," she said, clearly caught off guard by the question.

He waved his hand in a bored gesture and the stack of books soared off down the hall in a line, zipping around the corner and disappearing in the direction of the library.

"There, simple enough," he said with a small lipless grin. "I had one matter that I wished to discuss with you, if you have a moment?"

"With me?" Narcissa said in an innocently surprised tone that almost fully obscured the hitch of fear in her voice. "Of course, my Lord."

"Have they allowed you to visit Lucius?"

Her lips pursed together and the fear and worry she held for her husband shone in her eyes for a moment before she swallowed thickly and the mask was back in place. "They have not. But Lucius said he did not wish for Draco or I to see him in that place, or subject either of us to the presence of the Dementors."

"I suspect they may allow a visit in the near future. Should the opportunity arise, take it."

"Of course my Lord," she agreed readily.

Tom reached into his inner robe breast pocket and pulled out a slip of parchment and handed it to Narcissa. "Chances are that they won't allow you to bring anything to him, so I would ask that you attempt to memorize the names on that list. Each of those individuals are under the Imperius. Tell Lucius he is free to use them as an offering in making a deal. I've hopefully arranged for Lucius' sentence term to be re-examined. Tell him that I have explicitly said that he is free to make any claims necessary to get his sentence reduced, including claims of being forced to obey me under duress."

Narcissa's eyes widened and no masking could hide the stunned surprise on her face. "My Lord - are you sure?"

"Of course _I'm sure,_ " Tom snapped back. There was only so far out of character he could act before people would begin to question his identity.

"I'm sorry, my Lord, it just caught me by surprise. Thank you my Lord You are most gracious. Truly, _thank you_ ," she bowed low at the waist, clutching at the parchment in her hands like a lifeline.

"I have no other specific business here, unless by chance, Bella is here?"

"She is, my Lord," Narcissa said standing straight and nodding primly. "I can take you to her room if you would like?"

"That would be most appreciated. Thank you dear."

Narcissa led him down a long hallway and through a small, very plain, wooden door that led to a narrow spiral staircase. Tom was familiar with this part of the manor as it had been where they'd put the escapees when they first arrived in the manor last winter, when there was still concern over visits from unwanted guests. They went up the staircase two floors and turned down a simple narrow passage. This part of the manor was intended for staff quarters, so they were considerably less lavish and impressive than the rest of the manor. No doubt Bella was considerably displeased with her present housing arrangements.

Narcissa came to a stop at one of the plain doors and knocked.

"What?!" Bellatrix's sharp voice answered impatiently from the other side.

"Bella, the Dark Lord is here," Narcissa said through the door.

An audible gasp could be heard from within followed by some scuffling and the sound of hurried footsteps. The door flew open and Bellatrix Lestrange stood there, face a mask of hope and excitement. Her eyes fell upon Tom, or rather, _Voldemort_ 's visage with utter enthrallment and she instantly fell to her knees, bending forward.

"My Lord!" she gasped adoringly. "I knew you would come for me, your most loyal of servants. Please let me serve you. Please let me prove to your that I —"

"Bella, stand up," Tom said tiredly, cutting her off. He really didn't have the time for her dramatics.

"Oh… yes, _yes_ my Lord," she said, her voice both worshipful and shaken. She slowly pushed herself back up so she was standing before him, but her head was still bowed low, her eyes forcefully averted, though she kept trying to sneak subtle glances. Not that Bellatrix was capable of _subtle_ any longer. Of course, she wasn't big on 'subtle' even before spending a decade in Azkaban.

Tom turned to Narcissa then. "Thank you dear, you can go."

"Thank you my Lord," Narcissa said, bowing low at the waist one last time before turning and leaving back down the hall.

Tom turned back to Bella who was trying to watch Narcissa departure out of the corner of her eye.

"I have a task for you, Bella," Tom said, hoping to get this done quickly.

Bellatrix finally actually stood all the way up, looking at him with that discomforting mix of fear and excessive adoration. Tom could hardly believe he used to _like_ that she always did this.

"Anything, my Lord. I am your humble servant. I live to please you," she gushed.

"Yes, yes," he said dismissively. "Do you remember an object I entrusted to your care before the last war ended so abruptly? It was a golden cup that once belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. It had two handles and a badger on it. I had you place it in your Gringott's Vault?"

"Yes, my Lord! Of course I remember."

"Good. I need it. But it is far more important that it is retrieved safely, rather than that it be retrieved quickly. I want you to go to your vault and get it, but I want you to do so with _extreme caution_. If you think, for even a moment, that the Ministry might be watching the building, and consider there even the slightest risk of discovery, turn back and try again another day. I want that cup retrieved, and you are the only person who can do that. Getting caught by the Ministry would hinder this goal considerably. Do this for me and you will be completely redeemed of any perceived failures at the Ministry."

"Oh, my Lord! Thank you so much for this opportunity. I promise you that I will not disappoint you again!"

"I would expect not," Tom said dryly.

"Is there _anything_ else, my Lord, that I can do for you?" she asked hopefully, her eyes shining with a madness that made him all together unnerved now.

"No, but I do have need of your Mark. I must summon someone."

Her face fell slightly, but she instantly extended her arm, baring her left forearm for him. He grasped her arm with his left hand and she shuddered bodily, looking all too pleased with the contact that most would cringe at. He pressed his wand tip against the Mark and summoned Pettigrew.

He released her arm and a look of disappointment flashed across her features.

" _Anything_ else, my Lord?" she asked almost pleadingly.

"Nothing for now, Bella. You may call me with your mark when you have the cup."

"I will, my Lord. You will have it soon, I swear it."

"Safe is more important than soon," he reiterated.

"Of course, my Lord," she said, bowing at the waist as he turned back down the hall.

"Good day, Bella dear," Tom said in absent parting as he quickly strode back down the hall and to the small spiral staircase.

Tom headed directly for the front entrance as Pettigrew would have to come in through the main gate. He left the house and began to walk down the front path when he heard the crack of distant apparition. Just as Tom reached the gate, Pettigrew was visible scurrying nervously towards him. Peter spotted him and his eyes went wide with a momentary flash of fear before he bowed his head submissively and continued to hurry over.

"M-my Lord!" Peter said, bowing low as he reached Tom.

Tom heaved a sigh, extended his wand and aimed. "Imperio," he said lazily before Pettigrew even had the self-awareness to realize he had a wand aimed at him.

"You are _so_ pathetic Peter," Tom said in a bored tone. Peter's eyes had glazed over and a rather flat, empty expression now graced his face. "As much as I dislike you, I owe you my life. I swear these circumstances will be temporary. Do attempt to endure. Now… for a little memory modification. I don't have any faith in your ability to keep a secret. That's one trait we all know you do not possess, and there's no question that they'll be interrogating you quite thoroughly." Tom grinned and aimed his wand at the center of Peter's forehead. "Obliviate."

— —


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Harry ducked into the bathroom on the ground floor of Grimmauld place, closed the door, and pressed the two-way button on the side of his watch.

"Tom, are you there?" he whispered into his wrist.

A moment passed in silence and Harry was about to speak again when a voice emerged from the watch.

"Yes, Harry, I'm here," Tom's voice spoke over the enchanted watch.

Harry felt a grin split his face, despite himself.

"How fast can you get here?" Harry asked.

"I can be there in a minute. Has something happened?" Tom asked, sounding worried.

"Nothing bad. There's going to be an Order meeting here in about fifteen minutes. We were planning on trying to listen in."

"Oh… hmm… okay, sure, I can be there."

"Brilliant!" Harry said excitedly.

"See you in a minute or two."

"Alright." Harry pressed the turn-knob again and the watch went silent. He felt an excited flutter in his chest. It had been three days since the last time Tom had been there, and Harry had really started to miss their time together.

Harry left the loo and slipped back out into the hall outside the dining room where Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George were gathered. Just beyond the entrance to the dining room was the set of stairs that headed down into the kitchen, and Harry could hear a low din of voices coming from the Order members who had already arrived and were gathering down there. There was probably more chatter than usual, since Sirius' return was still quite a hot topic.

Harry slipped into the dining room just as George was fishing out several extendable ears from his pocket.

"I can't guarantee this'll get you very far," Fred was saying. "Moody is on high alert, I'd say, and he'll probably be watching for any signs of you lot trying to listen in at the door."

"We've tried lengthening the extension line, but if it goes too much further the sound becomes too distorted to make anything out properly," George said apologetically.

"But we'll fill you lot in when it's all over, so no worries if things don't work out," Fred said.

"It's ridiculous that they won't just let us in," Ginny groused.

"If mum had anything to say about it, even _we_ wouldn't be allowed in," George said and Fred nodded.

"Honestly, I don't think she'd even let Bill in, if she had _her_ way," Fred added.

"What do you think they'll be talking about today?" Ron asked his brothers.

Fred and George just shrugged. "No clue," they both said in unison.

Harry heard knocking from out in the hall and dashed from the dining room and down the hall towards the front door. Moody, however, beat him to it, as the man had apparently already been in the hall.

Alastor Moody pulled the door open and glared suspiciously at the figure standing on the other side.

"Who are you?" he demanded gruffly.

"I'm Thomlyn… a friend of Harry's?" Tom offered politely.

Moody's one real eye narrowed at him suspiciously, while his magic eye seemed to spin around examining him. "A friend of Potter's?" Moody asked gruffly.

Harry pushed through, past Moody, grabbed Tom's hand and dragged him past. "Sorry Mad-eye!" he called out as he dashed away, dragging Tom with him.

Tom actually laughed and the pair came to a stop out front of the doors to the dining room, right where Walburga Black's portrait sat in utter silence, behind a heavy curtain.

"Sorry about that," Harry said, but Tom just chuckled and shook his head.

"Not a problem."

Harry smiled at him. "I've missed you."

Tom's face softened. "Me too. I've missed you, I mean."

Harry chuckled and ducked his head. "It's been maddening, honestly. Too much time to myself."

"Have you been practicing at all?"

Harry looked to the side sheepishly. "A little," he said.

Tom snorted. "I'm sure you have," he said skeptically. "I've got some news for you, by the way. I've been busy," he grinned.

Harry's brows raised curiously into his forehead. "Oh?"

Then one of the doors to the dining room pushed open again and Ron's head popped out. "Harry? Where'd you go— oh! Hey, who's this?"

The doors were pulled open further, revealing both twins behind him.

"Eh? What's this?" Fred asked.

"Oy! Eh, Harry! Is this that bloke you're seeing?" George asked, grinning widely.

Harry and Tom were quickly pulled into the dining room, and the doors were once again closed behind them.

"Er, right," Harry said, nervously. "Yeah, this is Thomlyn Moore, everyone. Thomlyn, this is Fred and George, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny."

"It's really a pleasure to finally get to meet you all," Tom said easily. "Harry has told me so much about you."

"Funny, he never even mentioned you," Ginny grumbled under her breath, looking away sourly. Ron glared at her and jabbed her in the side with his elbow.

"Harry hasn't stopped talking about you the last couple days," Hermione said quickly.

"Seriously, he _really_ hasn't," Ron said, rolling his eyes.

Harry felt his face go hot with embarrassment and gave Ron a mild glare, but the ginger just grinned back at him.

Tom chuckled. "So what's going on? This place seems awfully busy."

"Order meeting," the twins said in unison.

"Oh," Tom said in a mildly surprised and curious tone. "The two of you are members, right?"

"Yeah, we turned seventeen last April so our mum can't object any longer," Fred said.

"They still insist on shutting out this lot, though," George said with a sideways nod to the rest of the group.

"But hopefully, we'll still get to listen in," Ron said holding up one of the extendable ears.

Tom arched a dubious eyebrow as he leaned in and examined the fleshy object on the end of a lone line. "What is _that?"_

"We call them Extendable Ears," Fred and George said in unison.

"Get the ear near the crack under the door and hold the line up to your ear and you can hear whatever is going on inside," Fred continued.

"Unfortunately, Moody is starting to catch on to us. But if you lot get busted, you can just wait until the meeting is over and we'll fill you in."

Tom hummed thoughtfully as he examined the ear. "It's a fascinating idea, but can I suggest an alternative?"

"Alternative?" George asked.

Tom unstrapped his watch and handed it over. "Press in the winding knob on this side," he said pointing.

Fred and George shared a brief look before George did as told.

"Not talk into it," Tom continued.

George held it up to Fred and he spoke into the watch. "Uhh… I'm talking to a watch?"

' _I'm talking to a watch,'_ instantly echoed from Harry's wrist, drawing everyone's gaze.

"Whoa!" Ron said as a big grin spread across his face. Harry smirked.

"Testing, testing," George continued into the watch in his hand and his voice instantly echoed out of Harry's watch. "This is brilliant!"

"It's like a muggle two-way," Hermione observed, looking at it with interest.

"Well, in this setting, it's more like a one-way," Tom corrected. "But if you were to press in the other knob instead, it works two-way."

Fred grabbed it and pressed the other knob. "Testing again!" he said into it, and once again the sound emerged from Harry's watch.

Harry held his watch up to his face and spoke into it. "Testing right back at you," Harry said, and the sound of his voice emerged from the watch in George's hand.

"These are brilliant," Fred said. "Where'd you get them?"

"He made them," Harry said, smiling.

"Really? So is it some kind of sermo charm?" Fred asked enthusiastically.

"How'd you overcome the limits of the conloaquia extensions?" George said an instant later.

"Or wait - an exsecutio charm, maybe?" Fred went on looking thoughtful.

Tom chuckled. "If you want, I'm willing to discuss some of the spellwork I used in enchanting them, but I think it might be best to wait until after the meeting."

"Right you are," the twins agreed.

"Make sure you switch back to one-way," Tom said, pointing to the watch.

George nodded, pressing in the one-way knob and slipping the watch on his wrist.

"Right, we'd best be getting down there. I doubt they'll wait for us, before getting started."

The twins left the dining room and headed down into the kitchen where the rest of the Order was already gathering. Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, all sat in chairs surrounding Harry and his watch, while Tom stood behind him. The group listened to the din of voices as they came out from the watch, and Harry could pick out several people talking to Sirius, expressing their surprise and excitement over his unexpected return. Finally there was the sound of a throat being cleared rather loudly, and the noise level quieted almost instantly.

"I'm glad you could all be here today," Dumbledore's voice rang out from the watch. "I'm sure that everyone knows by now the good news about Sirius. It was most certainly a big surprise for us all, but a _happy_ surprise. Welcome back, Sirius. We are all thrilled to have you with us again."

"Here, here!" several people chorused.

"Speak for yourself," could be heard grumbled lowly in Snape's sneering tone. Tom snorted quietly

"Now, as I understand it, several of you have come baring important news, so I think we should get right down to business," Dumbledore said. "Severus, I believe you said there was news regarding the Death Eaters?"

"The Dark Lord has returned. He's been to Malfoy Manor at least twice in the last week or so," Snape stated.

Harry glanced over his shoulder, questioningly towards Tom. Tom gave him a very slight nod.

"How do you know?" Someone asked, though Harry wasn't familiar enough with their voice to know who.

"Bellatrix asked Narcissa to summon me to the manor," Snape said in a distasteful drawl.

" _She_ summoned you? What did she want?" another person asked.

"She wanted to know if I had any Polyjuice potion in my stocks. When I told her that I did not, she insisted that I begin brewing some immediately. I refused, as I have better and more important things to be doing with my time. She then insisted that it was for a very important task that the Dark Lord has set her to, and that I _had_ to. I told _her_ , that if the Dark Lord required that I brew Polyjuice potion for her, I would expect him to ask me to do so himself."

"Did she say what this mission of her's is?" someone asked.

"She did not feel inclined to elaborate," Snape drawled.

"Hm… did you get any other details regarding his visit?" Dumbledore asked.

"I spoke with Narcissa Malfoy. She did say that the Dark Lord spoke to her briefly, but would not discuss what about. She said that the Dark Lord looked… _healthy_."

"Healthy?" someone asked.

"She said he looked ' _very well'_ and that he seemed _improved_. Again, she did not elaborate on what exactly she meant by this."

"Hmm…" Dumbledore hummed thoughtfully. "Do you know if he's been seen by any other of the Death Eaters? Any others who might have been given assignments that could suggest what he might be doing?"

"No, I have heard of no one else. That does not mean that there _is_ no one else - simply that I am unaware of any," Snape stated.

"Alright. Thank you Severus. Do keep me up to date on any further developments. Now, Kingsley, I believe you mentioned your desire to speak next?"

"Yes," Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice spoke up then. "I only just heard this about a half hour before coming here, but apparently a Death Eater of some importance was apprehended yesterday. And I have my suspicions as to who it may be."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, interest piquing in his tone.

"I think it might be Pettigrew."

You could have heard a pin drop, the room felt so silent. Harry felt his breath catch in his chest and his heart begin to race. He glanced surreptitiously up at Tom and saw just enough of a grin to know it was true.

"Peter? You really think —? What makes you think that?" Remus Lupin's voice spoke up, urgently.

"Apparently Scrimgeour was personally involved in his apprehension. According to the few rumors I managed to pick up on, the Death Eater in question was supposedly the one responsible for You-Know-Who's return. He was supposed to be the one who sought him out and helped him get a body back. As far as I know, that's Pettigrew."

"The Head of the Auror Office was personally involved? How did that happen?" someone Harry didn't recognize asked.

"I don't know the details," Kingsley said, "but rumor is that Scrimgeour has a spy within the Death Eaters. Someone who was able to put Pettigrew under the Imperius and send him straight to us."

"Great Merlin…" Remus said softly. "Sirius —?" his voice trailed off.

"What do we know about this spy?" Sirius asked.

"Uh, well, nothing," Kingsley said.

"Do you think there's anything we can do to get Pettigrew's guilt in regards to the Potters and framing Sirius, brought to light?" Tonks asked. "I'd hate for him to be caught, only to just be brought up on charges of Death Eater activity, and not get Sirius' name cleared for it."

"Well, you and I are still the ones officially assigned to tracking down Sirius," Kingsley said to Tonks, "we can brainstorm tomorrow on how to bring it up with Scrimgeour."

The meeting continued on from there, but nothing else covered was nearly as important or interesting to Harry as those first two issues had been. He sat through the remainder of the meeting, impatiently, wishing for it to be over so he could grill Tom for some details.

"Well, I think we've covered about everything," Dumbledore finally said after a number of various subjects had been brought up.

"Actually, I've got a question," the gruff voice of Mad-Eye Moody spoke up.

"Yes, Alastor?"

"What's the story with Potter's friend? I know you said you conducted a background check on the lad, but I was still pretty shocked to see that you let him in on the location of this place."

"Technically, it's _my_ house… Well, actually, it's _Harry's_ house," Sirius spoke up, "so if either he or I wanted this Thomlyn bloke to be allowed in, then he should be allowed in."

"Is that why he's here?" Alastor asked.

"Er, no… Albus told him on his own," Sirius said, grudgingly, "I'm just saying, if anyone has a problem with it…"

"I decided to allow Mr. Moore access to Grimmauld Place because I felt it would be safest to give Harry motivation to stay here as much as possible," Dumbledore spoke up. "Harry has made it clear that he has no desire to feel like a watched prisoner. Whether our aim is to keep him safe or not, boys will be boys, and if Harry wants independence, there is little we can do to completely stop him from going after it. However, if his friend can visit him here, then hopefully, they'll stay here, rather than going… elsewhere."

Moody made a gruff sort of grumbling sound. "Still seems like a risk. I know _you_ said you''d done a background check, but the rest of us still don't know a damn thing about him."

"If you're concerned, you could ask him," Dumbledore replied easily. "He has made no efforts to hide anything from me. I've confirmed all of the details he has shared with me, but they are details that are private to both he and Harry. It's not my place to say."

"Hmmph," Moody grumbled. "So what's this kids name? You never actually said it before."

"Thomlyn Moore."

"And how'd Potter meet him?"

"As I said - you can simply ask Harry and Mr. Moore."

Moody sighed impatiently.

"He's a good kid," Remus spoke up. "He and Harry… they seem good. It's fine, Alastor. Honestly, if you asked, Harry would probably tell you. But it _is_ personal."

Harry huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, maybe I should just put out a damn press release. Can no one respect a person's privacy?" he grumbled.

"Merlin, Harry, have you seen any of the stuff in the Prophet or Witch Weekly lately?" Ron asked, drawing Harry's horrified gaze.

"No… what?" Harry asked, a tinge of terror in his voice.

"Shhh!" Hermione hushed them, leaning in closer to the watch.

"— just saying that it's a security risk. Privacy is well and good, but some details need to be made available to those of us responsible for keeping the boy safe," Moody was saying.

"Details? Talking about details that should have been _made available_ , what about that blasted _prophecy?_ " Sirius said with a cynical edge to his tone. "And who went and leaked word of that thing to the papers, anyway? Talk about drawing a giant target right on Harry's back. Let's just post his picture on the front page of the Prophet with a giant heading ' _CHOSEN ONE?'_ plastered beneath it," he drawled sarcastically.

"Now, Sirius, you understand why details of the prophecy had to be kept secret," Dumbledore said placatingly.

"No, actually. I don't. At the very least, _Harry_ should have been made aware of it _ages_ before that nightmare at the Ministry. Keeping Harry in the dark only _ever_ leads to trouble."

"If the kid would leave well enough alone —" Moody started.

"No! That's ridiculous. This is _Harry's life_."

"He's just a _boy_ ," Molly insisted.

"He's a 'boy' who's had a mad-man trying to kill him his whole life, and he never knew _why_. Harry should have been told about that prophecy when he came face-to-face with You-Know-Who back in his first year! He should have been made aware of the risks he was facing from the start! Keeping him in the dark has only ever put him in _more danger,"_ Sirius shouted. "Speaking of _more danger_ , what the hell was the deal with that ridiculous tournament in his forth year? Harry was basically told he _had_ to compete, but that wasn't really the case, was it? He didn't _have_ to compete at all! But you told him he did! I'd swear you were more interested in seeing Harry come face-to-face with You-Know-Who than keeping him safe!"

"Idiot," Tom hissed under his breath.

"Sirius, shut up," Harry whispered worriedly. Ron and Hermione shared a concerned look, while Ginny just looked at them all in confusion.

"Sirius Black, don't be ridiculous!" Molly Weasley was saying. "If Harry could have gotten out of that Tournament, Albus would have made sure he did! It was a magical contract!"

The quiet sound of a throat clearing stopped the rest of the discussion. "Actually…" Minerva McGonagal's voice spoke up reluctantly. "Harry could have refused to participate. He did not enter his own name, and he was underaged. The magical binding only applied to the older students. In fact, if he had refused and the cup let him out without complaint, it would have proven his claim that he did not enter himself."

"But…" Molly's weak voice began but trailed off.

A heavy sigh could be heard from Dumbledore at that point. "I felt, at the time, that the events in motion at the time needed to be played out, for the sake of identifying who was behind it, and what their aim was."

"But Harry could have _died_ in those tasks! He was only fourteen!" Molly exclaimed.

"Harry did remarkably well —"

"Barely!" Molly said in a high pitched tone. "Albus, I'm shocked! I cannot believe that you were willing to put Harry's life at such risk for the sake of - of…"

"Using Mr. Potter as _bait_ ," McGonagall offered up, her own disapproval coming through in her tone.

"Yes! Using him as _bait!"_ Molly screeched.

"Hell, if Potter hadn't been in that tournament, You-Know-Who might not have even been resurrected," someone Harry didn't recognize said.

"Hind-sight is always twenty-twenty," Dumbledore said, placatingly. "But there is no telling for sure that Voldemort wouldn't have just fallen back on _another_ plan, had Harry's entry in the tournament not proceeded as desired. We cannot know with any certainty what would have happened had the alternate path been taken instead. Now, what's in the past is in the past. We can only try to make the best of what we have of the present."

"Well we can at least _learn_ from the past," Sirius groused. "And I'd say the biggest and most frequently repeated _mistake_ of the past, has been lying or hiding things, from Harry! It's his life, and he deserves some honesty. Whatever plans you make regarding him and You-Know-Who for the next year, you should tell him. None of this secrets tripe. I said it before and I'll say it again - keeping him in the dark only ever leads to trouble. At least if he knows the truth, he's got a better chance of preparing, or knowing when to keep his head down, rather than accidentally running headlong into another trap."

Harry flinched and cringed at the reminder of how his headlong dive right into one of those traps had led to Sirius' death. Tom's hand lay on Harry's shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. Harry glanced up at him and Tom was looking down at him with worried eyes. Somehow it was enough to calm the knot that was forming in his gut.

"Yes, Sirius, alright. I promise that I will take your advice to heart," Dumbledore said. "Now, if that is all, I think it's time to adjourn."

The room quickly devolved into loud chatter and the sound of chairs scraping across the floor as the meeting ended and the Order members began to depart. Noise could be heard of people coming up the stairs and moving past the door to the dining room, while the sound of the Floo flaring to life could also be heard in the kitchen. Finally it became obvious that George, or which ever of the twins had the watch, was leaving the room as well, and a moment later the door to the dining room was being pushed open just enough that both twins were able to slip inside before closing it behind them.

"Did it work?" Fred asked, excitedly.

"Worked perfectly," Harry said with a small grin.

"Brilliant!" George said as he removed the watch from his wrist and handed it back to Tom. "You've gotta tell us how you did it. I swear I spent most of the meeting trying to work out in my head exactly what series of enchantments I'd use to connect two objects like this, but I kept hitting road blocks."

"I'm sure you'd probably work it out, given enough time," Tom said with a shrug. "I've heard about some of the things you sell in that shop of yours. I was quite impressed when Harry told me that nearly everything you sell, you make yourselves. There's some very ingenious products mixed in with the jokes and pranks."

"Are you suggesting the jokes and pranks _aren't_ ingenious?" Fred asked, with mock offense.

Tom rolled his eyes and smirked. "Honestly, I'd actually really like to pay your shop a visit. I'm sure Harry would as well."

Harry looked up at Tom before looking over at the twins. "Yeah, actually. I really would. I'd love to see the shop."

"That'd be brilliant," the twins said, Fred shrugging his shoulders.

"We can probably talk to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and they can look into getting an Order escort sometime in the next week or so," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"Or, we could just _go_ ," Tom said rolling his eyes skyward.

"We can't just _go_ ," Hermione said, almost scandalized.

"Harry and I have _just gone_ all sorts of places over the last month. It's actually _safer_ to go somewhere spontaneously than it is to make plans. If it's spontaneous, there's no chance of any enemies learning of the plan and making plans of their own to launch some sort of attack. And if some Death Eater _did_ happen to just stumble upon us while we were out, they wouldn't actually be able to _do_ anything."

"What makes you say _that?_ " Ron asked.

"Well —" Tom hesitated for a moment, "as I understand it, the standing order is that they're not allowed to touch him. Only Voldemort can handle Harry, the rest would be flayed alive if they were to attack him on the spur of the moment."

"That _is_ what Snape said," George confirmed and Fred nodded.

"It's still reckless. We can't just _up and leave_ ," Hermione said, still looking flabbergasted by the mere idea.

"I suppose I'm just not accustomed to having to answer to an authority figure," Tom said, raising his hands in a half hearted shrug. "If I wanted to go somewhere, I _went there_."

"Well, what if we _did_ just _go somewhere_ and something actually did happen?" Hermione pointed out.

"If someone attacked, I would fight them off," Tom said with an incredulous laugh. "Honestly, Harry could probably get away with some self-defense at this point, as well. Given all this _chosen one_ publicity, I don't see the Ministry trying to pull another stunt like they did last August with that hearing about the patronus."

"It would still be safer to have an Order escort."

Tom scoffed. "You lot held your own against a group of Death Eaters who had been laying in ambush for you, just over a month ago, and you're worried about defending against one or two wizards on the off chance they randomly stumbled across you while shopping, and decided to attack, out in public, and with absolutely no plan or preparation?"

Hermione frowned deeply and looked as if she desperately wanted to object, but had no specific objections that came to mind.

Tom sighed. "You're just afraid of going against the wishes of your authority figures. When plans are made and the Order is involved, it leaves Harry vulnerable to a _planned attack_ on the off chance that _someone_ within the Order learns of the trip and reports it to Voldemort. _That_ is a much greater risk than us making an impromptu trip to Diagon Alley."

"You're suggesting that there could be a spy within the Order?" Ginny said.

"Uh… _Snape_?" Ron said, as if it were an obvious statement.

"I'm suggesting that there's never any guarantee. I think it's safe to say that no one within the Order suspected Pettigrew's betrayal during the last war, and yet they _did_ suspect Remus Lupin, entirely because of his lycanthropy. People naturally make assumptions, and those assumptions can often be wrong. You never can know."

Tom glanced hesitantly towards Harry, a question in his eyes. Harry gave him a weak smile and a nod of reassurance.

"Anyway, this whole debate is a bit silly. I rather doubt we'd be running off to Diagon today," Tom said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, I've got some other things I'd like to do today," Harry said, speaking up for a first time in a bit. "Actually… Thomlyn, do you think you could spare a few minutes? I uh… was hoping to talk to you."

"Of course, Harry," Tom said.

"Er, I'll be back in a few, alright?" Harry said to the rest of the room as he began to lead Tom to the door.

"You two off to find a nice empty broom cupboard?" Fred called out playfully as they left the room.

"Shut it!" Harry called back, earning him a laugh from both twins.

As they entered the hallway, they were almost run down by Tonks who nearly tripped over them. She apologized before heading out, calling back about being in a rush. A few more Order members were milling about in the hall, so Harry and Tom made their way up the stairs to Harry's room.

Tom entered the room first with Harry following behind and shutting the door. He heaved a sigh before turning around to face Tom. Harry nearly jumped when he found Tom much closer than he'd expected.

"I missed you _so_ damn much," Tom said reaching up and cupping Harry's face with his hands.

"Huwah?" Harry said, startled by the sudden and unexpected movement.

"It is utterly ridiculous how empty my house has felt the last three days. I would sit in my work room, preparing for something or working out something, and I kept expecting one of your random interruptions with some question or comment, but there was nothing. Just… silence. The house felt so _hallow_ , without you there."

"Oh," Harry said, breathlessly

"I think I'm also coming to terms with something else."

"What?"

"I do believe that I truly have turned into an immature hormonal teenager again," Tom said with a laugh.

Harry coughed out a mildly incredulous laugh. "Oh yeah? What makes you say that?"

"Because I can't stop thinking about how much I would like you to kiss me right now."

"Looks like the twins weren't so wrong with their teasing then."

"Just kiss me," Tom whispered as he leaned in. Harry reciprocated instantly, pushing forward and pressing his lips against Tom's. Tom's hands had slid into his hair and Harry found his arms raising up and wrapping around Tom's shoulders.

His lips were so soft and his body so warm. Tom's tongue breeched Harry's mouth and Harry felt his whole body responding with desire and want for _more_. Tom moaned against Harry's mouth and Harry felt himself melt with a surge of arousal at the sound. He clung to Tom, grabbing a fist full of Tom's shirt with one hand and flattening his palm along Tom's chest with the other, feeling him beneath the thin cotton of his shirt.

"Oh!" Tom called out before instantly diving back in for more of Harry's lips, and for a moment Harry wasn't sure what that had been about, but he realized suddenly that the thing beneath his hand was becoming stiffer and that the thing in question was Tom's nipple. Harry experimentally rubbed his thumb over the small nub beneath Tom's shirt and the other man moaned more deeply into Harry's mouth again, pushing in closer and more enthusiastically. Harry moaned back, flooded with desire and excitement. It was so good; so new, and so incredibly hot.

Harry soon found himself pressed up against the wall beside the door and let out a startled gasp of his own when the firm hardness of Tom's groin press up against his own. Tom ground into Harry several times and Harry found himself hitching one leg up up on Tom's hip and grinding right back.

"Oh god," Harry gasped, as his head fell back against the wall and he panted for breath. Tom wasted no time in diving in and molesting Harry's neck, sending shocks of electric pleasure up and down Harry's spine. Tom kept grinding and Harry found himself nearly delirious with the waves of the new and intense pleasure. This was nothing like _taking care_ of himself, and while they'd snogged for a good long while a couple times before, there hadn't been nearly this much attention paid to the groin during those times. Plus, something about this one just seemed _intense_. More so than before.

"Gods, I love that I can do this," Tom spoke against Harry's neck before trailing his tongue down it and into the hallow at the base where he took a moment to suck on Harry's shoulder. "I love that I'm doing it. I love the way it feels. I love that you're enjoying it… You are enjoying it, right?"

Harry laughed through his panting. "Yeah," he rasped. "Enjoying… it."

Harry could feel Tom's smile against his neck. "Even when I _was_ a teenager, I never felt like this. I never _wanted_ someone like this. Never felt… so connected. So drawn to one person…"

Tom paused from his breathless talking to take a moment to kiss his way back up the other side of Harry's neck, turning his head the other way and pulling the bottom of Harry's earlobe between his teeth. The sound and feel of Tom's breath against his ear sent shivers of pleasure down Harry's spine, causing him to moan in surprise and thrust up against Tom's erection again.

"Ungh…" Tom groaned against Harry's neck. "So good."

"So good," Harry echoed in a whisper.

"I missed you."

"Missed you too," Harry repeated, finally bringing his head down and turning it to meet Tom's mouth, pulling him back into another searing kiss.

"Mmm… I'm so glad I'm going to Hogwarts in the fall," Tom said, with a laugh. "I'm _glad!_ How ridiculous is that? But I don't know what I'd do if I couldn't see you for days or weeks on end. I fear I'd start to lose my mind, or just… lose my way. You're my compass, you know. You give me direction. Once, long ago, I would have despised myself for these feelings. I would have thought myself weak for indulging. For _wanting_. For… Merlin, I don't even know who I am anymore. I was never like this before. Nothing like this." Tom was still panting breathlessly, but their desperate grinding had died away and Tom was just staring into Harry's eyes again while one hand aimlessly combed through Harry's already messy hair. "Who the hell am I, Harry?"

"You're… Tom," Harry said with a shrug. "You're _my_ Tom."

Tom's lips curled into a smile. "I like that." Tom went in for one more kiss, but this one was much more chaste and slow. Finally he pulled their lips apart and rest his forehead against Harry's.

"That was… intense."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, that's one word for it," Harry panted.

Tom smiled and ducked his head. "Sorry, I sort of lost control of myself there."

"Do you hear me complaining?"

Tom looked back up, and reached forward with his free hand and tucked a stray hair back behind Harry's ear, where it promptly fell away again, since it was too short to really stay there.

"The old me, really would have hated the new me. I… I had such contempt for those who _cared_ about someone else like this. For people who would lose themselves to passion, or rely so heavily on another person to… to hold them up. I saw those people and I thought them weak. But I just didn't want to admit how lonely I was. I can admit it now. I was _so alone._ But I convinced myself that I didn't need anyone. That I was stronger for it, and that everyone else was weak and pathetic. But I was just stupid. Caring about someone doesn't make you weak. Not really… It puts you at risk… but it doesn't make you weak."

Harry smiled softly and nodded his head. "It's a risk worth taking. Caring about someone…"

"I'm so glad this happened," Tom whispered as he leaned forward, resting his face in the crook of Harry's neck.

Harry wrapped his arms around Tom's shoulders and held him close. "Me too."

"I'm not even _me_ anymore. But I don't care. The old me was just festering, anyway. A rot on the world." Tom paused then, with his arms wrapped low around Harry's back while Harry's arms wrapped around Tom's shoulders. "Can I really take this? This second chance… even though I don't deserve one?" he whispered against Harry's neck.

"I think so. Everyone deserves a second chance."

Tom let out a small incredulous laugh. "Not me."

"Then… then maybe the _world_ deserves a second chance. A chance at getting a Tom Riddle who isn't destructive and cruel. You're so… incredible. You could do amazing things, I know it."

"I'm still not a good person," Tom whispered, shaking his head as it was buried in the crook of Harry's neck.

"I think you are."

"I want to be the person you think I am."

"That's enough, I think."

Tom let out a quiet sigh and held Harry a bit tighter. They stood there like that in the silence of the room for a short while before Tom pulled in a long slow breath and exhaled it while pulling away. He kept his head ducked and a grin was on his lips.

"What?" Harry asked, curious of the expression.

Tom chuckled. "It just occurred to me… how much I love the way you smell. I feel like I said this before."

Harry laughed lightly before shaking his head. "I think that I was the one that said it last time. Oh, and I like the way you smell too," he said a moment later. Tom looked up at him and grinned before chuckling.

Harry blew out a deep breath as the two finally pulled apart completely and Tom took a step back.

"Fwew… I er… well, I suppose we should probably talk about that stuff while we've got the chance," Harry said, trying to pull himself together again.

"Ah, yes. I did manage to accomplish a number of things besides pining for you, the last three days.

Harry chuckled. "So you went to the Malfoy's?"

Tom nodded but held his finger to his mouth. He took a step back and pulled out his wand doing several waves before performing the audible sound ward that Harry had become familiar with. Apparently satisfied, Tom put his wand away. "Probably should have done that earlier, but I'd say it's probably fine. Anyway, you would be correct."

"So you finished that spell, then. The one that lets you look like Voldemort again."

"Yes. I actually finished that the day you saw me working on it a while ago."

"Oh… So you can transform back into _Him,_ again?That's got to be kind of weird."

"Looking like _that_ again? Weird doesn't even begin to cover it. It's utterly surreal, and more than a little disturbing."

"I think I want to see it…" Harry said hesitantly.

Tom looked at him incredulously. "You _want_ to see me looking like Voldemort again?" Tom asked.

"Yeah… I think I do," Harry said, frowning, not even sure where the impulse came from.

Tom's jaw floundered as he stared at Harry for a moment longer. "I… well, if you really want to see it, I suppose I can show you. But I'll be damned if I'm doing it _here_ \- and most certainly not _now_."

Harry let out a laugh and shook his head. "Yeah, I can see how that might be a bad idea."

"Yes, having _Voldemort_ in the same house as more than half of the Order of the Phoenix would probably _not_ be the best idea."

"Uhm… right. I can see that. Anyway! I had questions! So what was this super-special mission that Bellatrix was talking about?"

"Hm? Oh, I just told her to go get my cup from her vault," Tom said dismissively. "I just told her that doing it _carefully_ was the highest priority, and that speed wasn't of the essence. I just wanted her to guarantee that she got it out and didn't get herself caught in the process. I _really_ don't want to have to try and break into the goblin's bank again. The last time it was a considerably lower security vault. I'm not honestly sure I could manage it with Bella's vault."

"Last time— oh, right! You mean when you were on the back of Quirrell's head?"

"I was actually in control of the body at that time. I didn't trust him to do that himself… but yes, that's the time I was referring to."

"So… you mean, you were able to fully possess him back then?"

"For brief periods of time. It left me incredibly drained and him miserably ill."

"Oh, wow…" Harry said, running a hand through his hair. "So what about Pettigrew? You handing him over to Scrimgeour, I mean?"

"I summoned him, performed a few memory charms, and then imperioused him to walk into Scrimgeour's hands," Tom said with a dismissive shrug.

"That's it?"

"Well, I had a little meet and greet with Scrimgeour first," Tom said with a conceding tip of his head. "I kept my appearance and voice magically obscured, and kept him restrained far enough away to guarantee anonymity. And I made him a few offers and asked for a few favors in return, so it wouldn't look too odd. Nothing too involved, though."

"What did you ask for in return?" Harry asked, moving over to his bed and sitting down.

Tom followed and sat beside him. "Not too much, really. I asked that Lucius' prison term be re-examined, taking extenuating circumstances like life-threatening duress, into consideration."

Harry made a face. " _Malfoy?"_

"I know you don't like him, Harry," Tom said, rolling his eyes skyward. "But I feel _bad_ about Lucius ending up in Azkaban. Honestly, if I thought I could get Crabbe, Nott, and Goyle out too, I probably would. However, they were all quite a bit more mindlessly eager and less reluctant to participate than Lucius was. And of course the rest of the raid party were escapees from Azkaban, and quite honestly all belong back in there. Lucius honestly didn't want to do the raid. He _honestly_ didn't want me in his damn house, and he _honestly_ was afraid that I'd go after his family if he refused me anything I wanted. He _did_ hope that if he was loyal and followed orders, and I was successful in taking over the wizarding world, that, at least, he would be rewarded with a powerful position, but he didn't have a lot of faith that I would succeed. He was one of the few that really _saw_ just how much my mind had deteriorated, even from the last war."

Harry sighed heavily and shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, fine. Was that it?"

"Pretty much. I told Scrimgeour that if he allowed Lucius to speak with his wife, there had been recent developments that would leave him feeling much less terrified of defying me and he'd be willing to make a deal. I suggested that Lucius knew the names of a number of Ministry employees who had been placed under the Imperious, and Lucius could give up those names in exchange for a reduced sentence. So, in this way, not only was I able to get Peter turned in, I was also able to arrange for a large number of people to be released from their Imperius curses, without it looking like that's what I was trying to do."

"Oh," Harry said, surprised and impressed. "Yeah, that's actually kind of brilliant. So that's why you spoke with Narcissa Malfoy? To tell her to give Lucius Malfoy the 'okay' on spilling some names?"

"Precisely," Tom said with a nod.

"Is Scrimgeour going to do anything about Sirius?" Harry asked the question that honestly meant the most to him.

"I told him about Pettigrew's role in the whole ordeal with your parents and how he set Sirius up to take the fall. I told him that you and Dumbledore had tried to tell Fudge about all of this a couple years ago, but Fudge had ignored you both. I also suggested that if he were to get Sirius' name cleared, you might be so grateful that you could probably be persuaded to stand for a photo op, and maybe even give a small endorsement for his bid for the Minister's position. This, of course, is totally optional, and you don't have to do it at all. I just find that little motivations like this work well with people running for political positions."

"Oh," Harry said, a little bewildered by this. "You honestly think that _me_ making an… uh, _endorsement_ would be worth anything to him?"

Tom chuckled. "Yes, Harry. I really do think that. You _are_ aware of the sorts of things the Prophet has been saying about you this summer."

"Well, _yeah_ … but that's all just sort of rubbish. It's not like it _means_ anything."

"It means plenty to the people. They're all terrified by the idea of a repeat of the 70's. It's been proven that _I'm back_ and all that. Things were seen as hopeless before. That's why it was such a big deal when you apparently _defeated me._ It's why you were hailed so famously for surviving while I 'died'. It was seen as a miraculous saving grace. Now that The Dark Lord is 'returned', they're all terrified of that hopeless wanton destruction and constant deaths. They're desperate for another miracle, and the idea of you being foretold to defeat me again gives them hope. On top of that, you've been saying for more than a year that I was back, while the rest of the country insisted you were crazy or attention seeking. It's now been proven that you were right all along. Your word has more value now as they've seen you were right when everyone else was wrong. If you put your lot in with one candidate over the other, it would guarantee that person more support."

Harry shook his head disbelievingly. "Still seems ridiculous to me. I don't even know anything about Scrimgeour; or politics, for that matter. Why would anyone expect me to know which candidate would actually be better than the other?"

"It's not like _they_ know that. The public knows very little about you, and what they think they know comes from gossip and rumor and is grossly inaccurate."

Harry snorted. "Tell me about it."

"It might please you to know that Scrimgeour seemed honestly offended by my attempts to offer politically motivated incentives. Didn't stop him from considering them, though," Tom smirked. "The man has been an Auror for more than 30 years. He's been the Head of the Auror Office for the last eight years. He's a generally honorable man, as far as potential political figures are certainly wouldn't be a _bad_ option."

"What about Madam Bones? Which do you think would be better?"

"Honestly, Harry, that's a hugely objective question. They'd both probably do a decent job. Both would be monumentally superior to Fudge in every way."

"Hm… well, it really doesn't matter, I suppose. Who knows if any of that will even happen. If the whole endorsement thing does come up, I'll think about it more then."

"So how have things been with Sirius?"

"Ah… good, I guess. We've hung out a lot, and talked a lot. We went through the house and got all the paintings that looked like they shouldn't be here, or that might have counterparts that Dumbledore could have access to, and stored them all away in a cupboard, and we've done a few attempts on the whole animagus thing, not that I've really gotten anywhere yet."

"Oh yes, I'd nearly forgotten about that," Tom said. "Hmm… I think I might dig out an old book I've got on the subject and give it a look. Maybe we could do some of that tomorrow. Give me an excuse to come over," Tom smirked.

Harry grinned back. "Yeah, that could be cool. The way Sirius is explaining it doesn't seem to be clicking with me. Maybe if you start to get something to work, you can explain it to me in a way that I can actually wrap my head around."

Tom chuckled. "Well, I'll do my best, then. You know, speaking of Black and his animagus form, that reminds me — the full moon is in 2 days. What's your plan for that time?"

"Uh, plan?"

"I assume Lupin will be in the house for the nights around the full moon?"

"Oh… I really don't know. We hadn't actually talked about it."

"Mm… well, it'd make me feel better if I knew what the plans were. I'd even consider either staying the night, or inviting you to my cottage those nights, just to make sure you weren't in any sort of direct danger."

"Remus isn't dangerous," Harry objected.

"Harry, he nearly _killed you_ in your third year," Tom deadpanned.

Harry scowled. "That wasn't his fault."

"He forgot to take his wolfsbane - that could be argued as _his fault."_

"But he's on the wolfsbane now, so that won't be a problem."

"We're _assuming_ he's going to be on the wolfsbane. I'd like to actually _know_ that for sure. Anyway, we have been holed away here for a decent bit of time now. You're friends are probably starting to wonder about us. Shall we go back down?"

"Er, yeah, if you want to. I wasn't sure if you would really want to spend time with them."

"Why wouldn't I? They're your best friends," Tom asked in surprise.

"I guess I just wasn't sure if you'd actually want to spend time with a group of teenagers. I didn't want you to feel out of place or something."

Tom chuckled and shook his head. "It really doesn't bother me. Honestly, there are definitely quite a lot of moments lately where I feel much more like a teenager than someone in their early seventies. With my emotions and hormones so unpredictable and over-reactive, I certainly feel erratic enough half the time. Besides, they're important to you and I'd like to get to know them. Unless, you're uncomfortable with the idea of me spending time near them," Tom back-peddled quickly.

"No! I'd actually like them to get to know you. As much as they can, at least."

Tom smiled and nodded and the pair soon left Harry's bedroom to make their way back downstairs. They passed the drawing room on their way to the stairs and the familiar sound of voices told them that Harry's friends had relocated there from their previous location in the dining room on the ground floor. Harry popped his head inside to confirm and saw that Ron, Hermione, Ginny, George and Fred were all inside.

"Hey guys," Harry said, pushing the door open the rest of the way and stepping inside, followed by Tom.

"Hey, look who finally came up for air!" Fred joked.

"You two took a while," George added with a teasing wink.

"Yeah, what were you two kiddos up to?" Fred added, with an expression of mock innocence.

"Nothing. Just talking," Harry said defensively.

George snickered. "I didn't know you could contract large purple bruises on your neck from talking."

Harry's hand flew up to his neck and his face went hot as he turned and looked accusingly at Tom who was smiling despite himself.

"You could have warned me!"

Tom's smirk broke out into a full blown smile. "I'm sorry - I just liked it too much. I'll heal it before we leave the room if you want."

"How would I explain a giant hickey on my neck to Sirius?" Harry asked accusingly.

Tom shrugged innocently and Harry rolled his eyes at him.

"Sirius knows you two are uhm… together, right?" Ron asked.

"Er, yeah, just… you know, not so much with the physical… stuff," Harry said awkwardly.

"He's not naive," Hermione pointed out.

"I know, it's just… never-mind," Harry ran a nervous hand through his hair, looking anywhere but at his friends and feeling tense. Then a warm hand ran down the center of his back and light touch of Tom's lips against the side of his head, and he felt some of his nerves melt away, even while another part of him felt slightly terrified, showing such affection openly, in front of his friends.

"Come on," Tom said gently using his hand on the small of Harry's back to push him towards the chairs and couches in the center of the room where his friends were gathered.

Harry dropped his hand, feeling self-conscious of the mark he knew was probably there, but let himself be lead forward. Hermione was sitting on the couch and scooted over to one end, making enough room for Harry and Tom to sit together

"So what were those _things you wanted to do?"_ Fred asked Harry.

"Huh?"

"Before you left, you said you had _things you wanted to do_." George clarified, smirking.

"Or was the only _thing_ you wanted to _do_ , Thomlyn there?" Fred pressed on, grinning wolfishly.

"Fred! George!" Harry exclaimed, mortified as the twins burst out into teasing laughter. "Will you two _stop it?_ "

The twins paused, looked at each other consideringly before looking back at Harry. "Nope," they said in unison.

"Sorry Harry," George said, not actually sounding sorry at all.

"You're just too much fun to tease right now," Fred continued.

Tom was chuckling, earning him a mild glare from Harry. "What?" he said defensively, still grinning with obvious amusement. "You're cute when you're embarrassed."

"You're no help at all," Harry said.

"So, Thomlyn," Hermione spoke up, clearly trying to shift the conversation for Harry's sake. "I understand that you and Harry have spent a lot of time together this summer, so far?"

"Mm, that's right," Tom said with a nod. "Most of the time we were either at my cottage or in the village down the road a bit, but we did make a few excursions to other towns."

"Trips into the village?" she asked, curiously.

"Food, shops, that sort of thing. We ate out for lunch nearly every day for a couple weeks," Tom chuckled and shrugged. "I can cook, but I tend to not keep my kitchen very well stocked. Harry did eventually drag me into a market to get some decent supplies, and we did finally start making a few meals for ourselves, but I rather enjoyed the excuse to get out and visit the local village."

"It's a waste of money," Harry pointed out defensively.

"And I'm not worried about that," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "You're the first thing I've _wanted_ to waste my money on, let me do it."

"I'm still going to pay you back," Harry grumbled.

"I'd like to see you try," Tom said, smiling innocently over at Harry who gave him a flat, mildly annoyed glare, back.

"I thought you were homeless up until two years ago. Where's your money come from?" Ginny asked in a tone that was a bit too sharp and accusatory to be considered polite. Tom ignored it.

"In addition to inheriting his house, I also got my father's savings," Tom said with a one-shouldered shrug. "It wasn't necessarily all that substantial an inheritance however. Living the way I did in my youth taught me the value of frugality, so I've been saving nearly every penny I've earned. On top of that, I've been earning an income from selling potions to a couple local apothecaries."

"Tom's brilliant with potions. He can brew the really complicated ones that sell for a lot of money."

" _Tom_ , eh?" Ginny said, arching an eyebrow.

Harry cringed slightly, mentally kicking himself for the slip.

Tom gave her a sympathetic look that she clearly didn't appreciate if the scowl on her face was anything to go on.

"Oh, that's right! Harry was worried how _you specifically_ , would react to my name, given your… unfortunate experience in your first year. I am, _deeply_ , sorry that you had to endure something undoubtedly very traumatizing, at such a young age. I can only imagine what sort of effect something like that would have on a person. Anyway, I do still go by Thomlyn on occasion, but it's a fairly odd name among muggles, which is where I spent most of my life, so I've usually just gone by Tom instead."

"Which do you prefer?" Hermione asked.

Tom shrugged. "Either is fine, honestly. If calling me _Tom_ reminds you too much of a certain psychotic dark wizard, then Thomlyn is absolutely acceptable. I always knew my name was fairly common, but until Harry told me, I actually had no idea that I shared a first name with Voldemort. I didn't know that anyone even knew what the man's true name was, for that matter, but I suppose it does make sense. People are terrified to even say _Voldemort_ , I suppose it shouldn't be too surprising that no one would be willing to say his real name either."

"I'm surprised Harry would want to call you _Tom_ ," Ginny said, sourly.

"Lots of people are named Tom," Harry said, defensively. "Tom from the Leaky Cauldron doesn't make me think of Voldemort. There's a second-year in Gryffindor named Tom - well, third year now, I guess."

"There's a Tom in Hufflepuff who graduated last year," George remarked.

"Dean's last name is Thomas, and you're apparently _dating_ him, _remember?_ " Ron said with a grimace and a pointed question.

Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically, "Last names don't count."

"But you _are_ dating him, _right?_ " Ron said.

"What's your point?" Ginny shot back defensively.

"So you're good with potions?" Hermione asked Tom, once again trying to pull the conversation back to something less uncomfortable. Harry gave her a grateful look.

"Mm, yes. I've always found it to be an easy subject to master. It really just requires patience and good organization, above all else. As long as you don't rush it's easy to make sure you don't make a mistake. Of course there are the periods where timing is of the essence and you have no choice but to rush, and those are the times when it's easiest to make mistakes. You really just have to keep a level head and remain focused. I've always got three or four lengthy brews going on in my work room. They're the sort of potions that people don't often have the patience to tolerate brewing themselves. Most people don't have the time to dedicate to brews that take more than an hour to complete, so anything that takes more than a day is guaranteed to sell well to shops, and usually for quite a substantial profit. As long as I stay organized, it's not that difficult to keep track of what needs to be added, and when."

"He uses lots of timers," Harry added, grinning.

"Harry's been a lot of help the last three weeks, as well," Tom added.

Ron snorted in disbelief. "I'm surprised Harry would want to go anywhere near a cauldron. Or that you'd be willing to let him."

Tom chuckled. "He _didn't_ want to - not at first, anyway. I suppose I dragged him into it, but he's performed admirably. I can still remember the horrified look on his face the first time I asked him to dice up some ingredient for me."

"He's showed me a lot of stuff though," Harry said. "Snape's a rotten teacher - I've always said it, and now I _know_ it. I've learned more from Tom in the last three weeks than I did from Snape in the last _five years_."

"Well, I think it's _fantastic_ that you're putting some more effort into learning potions, Harry," Hermione said.

"I doubt it would make my time in Potions Class any easier," Harry groused, rolling his eyes. "Not that I'm likely to be getting in. Snape requires an Exceeds Expectations on the OWL exam to get into his NEWT class, and I doubt I managed that."

The group continued conversing for another half hour on various topics when Harry stood up and told the others he'd be right back. Tom looked at him questioningly. "Gotta use the loo," Harry said, earning him a nod, and he left the room. Tom watched as the door closed behind him and turned back to face the group.

"So what's the plan for his birthday?"

"Plan?" Ron echoed, staring blankly back.

"I'm assuming that you lot probably have something planned, seeing as how it's only four days away, but if not, I can make plans of our own. I considered taking him out for a nice dinner and some of those muggle touristy things he never got to do as a child, but I know that Harry would prefer something involving all of his friends."

"I know there was talk about holding it at the Burrow before, but after everything with Sirius coming back, things have sort of been in limbo," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"I guess we'll probably do it here, now," George said.

"If you did have it here, aren't there some people you couldn't invite? That Luna girl, and Longbottom. I know Harry holds them both in high regard as well," Tom asked.

"Luna and Neville?" Ron echoed questioningly. "Yeah, I suppose it might be a good idea to invite them too."

"I'm actually quite curious to meet Luna. From what Harry's said, she sounds like quite a unique character," Tom said with a chuckle.

"Unique is one way of putting it," Hermione said. "So Harry's really talked about all of us to you a lot, then?" she asked.

"There's a lot of time with nothing to do besides talk while brewing lengthy potions," Tom said with a shrug. "And Harry talks _a lot._ If he wasn't talking about you lot, he was asking me questions about myself, or about the potion I was working on, or about the book I was trying to read. And of course there were Harry's letters from before the summer. We didn't talk about specifics at first, when there was still a level of anonymity, but Harry did eventually start describing you all to me. It's obvious that Harry values his friends above anything else in his life. Which makes sense, seeing as how he was never allowed to have any friends before Hogwarts."

"Not _allowed?_ " Ginny said, frowning.

"Those miserable muggles he got left with," Tom drawled with a mild sneer. "Honestly those people should be…" he paused and huffed out a breath of air. "It doesn't matter. I'd best not get hung up on them. Harry is intent on putting it behind him, and when I think about them I tend to experience strong violent impulses. I'm making it a goal to avoid getting angry about things I am not in a position to act upon. At least he never has to see them again."

"Er, well, not exactly," Hermione said hesitantly, frowning. "He'll still have to go back for some time, next summer, won't he?"

"Why? He'll be turning seventeen the month after the school year ends. What's the point in putting himself through enduring their miserable presence for a month when there's no logical reason to do so?" Tom asked with mild incredulity.

Hermione frowned, "Well… the protection from his mother is supposed to be —"

Tom scoffed. "That's rubbish, and we all know it. The wards around that house aren't anything special. I was able to apparate directly into Harry's room every day for a week before the Order even realized we were leaving the house. What kind of _special wards_ allow a wizard to apparate from _outside the house_ , directly _inside the house?"_

Hermione's jaw dropped.

"You can apparate within Grimmauld Place," Ginny pointed out, "I've seen these two idiots doing it all the time," She motioned towards Fred and George.

"Apparating from one point inside some wards, to another point, still inside the same wards, is usually allowed with most home wards. It's when you try apparating from outside the wards, to inside the wards, that things are usually prohibited. Even mildly powerful ward systems guarantee against outside apparition. The wards around Harry's relatives home are pathetic."

The twins frowned and looked at each other. "Well, Dumbledore did say something about the wards being based on intent… like if a wizard were to approach the house with ill intent, it would keep them out…" Fred said hesitantly.

"And _that_ is supposed to be a fool-proof, extra special, ward?" Tom asked, arching a single brow. "Dumbledore left Harry with the impression, all these years, that the wards around his muggle family's home were _so powerful_ and _so special_ that there was absolutely no way a Death Eater or Voldemort could even _find_ the house, let alone get in. But there's nothing special about them at all."

"Well, we can't know that for a fact," Hermione argued. "You-Know-Who never has gone to Harry's relatives home, and there's never been any Death Eater attacks there. Might'n that suggest that they weren't able to find it or get in?"

"If I had a rock, I could claim that the rock was enchanted to repel grizzly bears. I could point out that there are obviously no grizzly bears here, so it must be working. Does that prove _anything?_ "

"Yeah, but a bear isn't _looking_ for you," Ron pointed out.

Tom sighed and waved his hand dismissively. "Fine, fine. We've wasted our time - Harry will be back any second. So a party at the Burrow sounds like the best option if more of Harry's friends are to be invited. Will there be any issue with Harry's other friends if Black is there? Or do they all know about Sirius being innocent?"

"Well, Luna and Neville definitely know," Ron said with an easy shrug. "They were both at the Ministry the night we all went to try and _rescue_ Sirius."

"I can't really think of anyone else that we should invite," Hermione said, thoughtfully. "So it should be fine."

"Brill. Will Harry be in on it, or will the goal be to hold a surprise party?" Tom asked.

Ron and Hermione both shrugged. "It certainly _could_ be a surprise party, I suppose. It should be easy with it being at the Burrow, since we can get it setup before he even comes over," Ron said.

"Obviously, he'll figure it's probably something for his birthday, if he gets dragged to the Burrow on his birthday," Fred said.

"But we can make it bigger than he'd expect," George said. "He wouldn't expect Neville or Luna to be there, I bet."

"Fantastic. Do you need me to bring anything? Food, some other random supply? I haven't really been to a casual birthday party before, so I'm not entirely sure what is considered normal," Tom asked.

"You've never been to a birthday party?" Ron asked, incredulously.

Tom shrugged, "Not a casual one. I've been to _posh_ ones, held in ballrooms with wait staff, and string quartets, but those are miserably dull and obviously not right for Harry."

"What were you doing at some posh party like _that?"_ Ginny asked.

Tom smirked rather deviously. "Picking pockets, what else?"

Ginny's eyes widened considerably.

"What are you telling them, Tom?" Harry's voice sounded from the now open doorway as he walked in, closing it behind him.

"Awe," Tom pouted playfully, "you removed my hickey."

Harry rolled his eyes.

"You used _magic?"_ Hermione asked, accusingly.

This time Harry rolled his eyes at _her_. "It's _fine_ Hermione, I already told you that the wards around Grimmauld Place keep the Ministry from detecting magic use."

"It's hardly worth the _risk_ though," She argued.

"Does _Harry_ know about you _picking pockets?"_ Ginny asked in a loud, pointed tone.

"Of course," Tom said dismissively. "I don't keep secrets from Harry. Trust is a fragile thing, and it's more important to me that Harry trusts me, than anything else. Besides, it's not like I'm still doing it. I don't need to, anymore."

Ginny looked over at Harry, "I just didn't think Harry would approve of something like that."

Harry huffed out a tired breath. "He was ten, homeless, and penniless."

"Rationalizing it doesn't make it alright," Ginny replied.

"It was illegal and it was wrong, yes, fine," Tom said, rolling his eyes. "I did what I had to do to survive. I won't apologize for that. Fortunately, I never got caught, and I managed to dig myself out of the hole I was stuck in and get myself to a better position so I wouldn't have to do things like that anymore."

"I would prefer someone who had to do what Tom did, and come out on top, over someone who lived their life on a bed of gilded sheets, paid for by their rich-daddy, and never developing a respect for money or real hardship," Harry argued firmly. "Despite the things Tom had to do before, I still say he's got a better claim to the moral high-ground _now_ than someone like Malfoy does. Malfoy is an arrogant, obnoxious prat, who treats everyone like shite and makes fun of anyone who he thinks is _below his station_. But he's got no appreciation for money or real life hardships. He doesn't _need_ to steal, but I bet he wouldn't hesitate to do it, if there was something he wanted badly enough that wasn't for sale."

Ginny huffed out a breath and folded her arms across her chest in silence.

The room was quiet for an awkward moment after that before Ron's voice broke the silence. "So is it really true that your real accent is cockney?" he asked Tom.

Tom looked skyward and groaned. "You told them _that?"_

Harry snickered as he dropped himself back down onto the couch beside Tom.

"Because you _so_ don't sound like it," Ron went on, grinning.

"Oh we've _got_ to hear this," Fred said, sitting forward in his seat, a gesture echoed by George at the same time.

"Honestly, I can do a _lot_ of different accents," Tom said. "You want _real_ low-class speech, I can even do a very convincing brummie accent."

"I haven't heard you do that one," Harry said, arching an eyebrow at Tom.

"I spent some time in Birmingham a while back," Tom said with a shrug.

"Why would anyone intentionally adopt a brummie accent?" Ginny asked.

"Linguistics fascinate me," Tom said, giving another simple shrug. "I can pull off a rather convincing standard Scottish accent, as well as a decent Scots dialect. Being able to pull off a working class accent versus a professional class accent was always important to me. Sort of like my current 'Queen's English' proper London accent versus the Easter Ender dialect I grew up with."

"Well you can't claim all that and not demonstrate," Fred said.

Tom chuckled. "Fine - what first?"

— —


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The group carried on with various conversations for another half hour before the twins had to leave and get back to their shop. A short time after that Molly Weasley called them all down for some food, where they were joined by Arthur, Sirius, Remus, and Tonks. Sirius looked less than pleased with Tom's presence there, but made no outward comment on it.

Tom remained mostly silent during the meal, only speaking quietly to Harry a few times. Near the end, when conversation picked up some, Molly Weasley began asking him a few questions which he answered briefly and succinctly, which clearly did little to ease her obvious curiosity.

The meal drew to an end and then Molly began to gather up her two remaining children, her husband, and Hermione, so they could return to the Burrow.

"There was something I was curious about, if you wouldn't mind me asking," Tom said quietly to Remus, who had remained seated at the table while Molly bustled around, making sure all of the dishes were washing themselves in the sink before leaving.

Remus looked visibly worn with bags and lines under his tired eyes, which was probably why he hadn't stood up when everyone else had started to mingle or vacate the kitchen.

He looked curiously at Tom and nodded. "Of course, ask away," he smiled invitingly.

Tom pulled out the chair beside him and sat down. "I was just wondering what your plans for the next three nights are? Are you staying in Grimmauld Place, or do you have some other location you intend to go?"

Remus's face blanked for a moment before he sighed and nodded. "Harry told you?"

"You were outed by Snape back in '93. Your affliction is hardly a secret," Tom pointed out as gently as was possible, given the subject matter.

Remus let out a weak, resigned chuckle and nodded. "I suppose so. Well, to answer your question, through there —" Remus paused and pointed towards a door next to the pantry, "—is a wine cellar. Or at least, it _used_ to be a wine cellar. Sirius and I cleared it out and outfitted it with the necessary restraints and protections to… keep me in, during my transformations. It's where I've been going for most of the last year."

"And there haven't been any incidences?"

Remus frowned. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm just concerned for Harry, seeing as how he's staying here now."

"Ah, I see. No, there have been no incidences. I take Wolfsbane, which keeps me mostly in my right mind. Sirius joins me as Padfoot - that's his Animagus form - to help with calming what's left."

"As long as you include Harry on your plans, and he knows where not to be and what to expect, I would like to think he'll manage to keep himself out trouble," Tom said, nodding thoughtfully.

Remus smiled softly. "Good point. I'll make sure he knows what's going on."

They finished up and Tom walked over to where Harry was saying goodbye to his friends by the Floo.

"Hey mum, can Hermione and I come back tomorrow?" Ron was asking Molly Weasley as Tom walked up.

"I - well, I suppose I can't see a reason not to. So long as it's alright with Sirius and Remus."

"Fine by me," Sirius said with a shrug. "Just wait till around noon to come by. I'm uh… expecting a long night. We might be sleeping in a bit."

Ron and Hermione agreed, said their final goodbyes to Harry and were the last to finally go through the Floo.

"Ah… peace and quiet," Sirius said with an exaggerated sigh. "Merlin, this place gets crazy on days with Order meetings."

Remus chuckled and nodded. "That it does. Even more so when Molly brings her brood." He glanced over at Harry quickly, "Not that I mind your friends dropping by, at all."

"It's fine," Harry said with a grin. "It was nice getting to see them all again, but it _was_ a bit much, having so many people here all at once. It'll be simpler with a smaller group tomorrow, I think."

"Speaking of smaller groups, when do you think _you'll_ be leaving, _Thomlyn?"_ Sirius asked with an obviously fake and innocent smile.

"Sirius," Harry said in a scolding tone.

"No, it's fine, Harry," Tom said gently. "I should probably head back, anyway. It's getting later on and no doubt Sirius and Remus have things to prepare."

Sirius rolled his eyes and walked away from the floo to go sit with Remus.

"I don't have the floo network hooked up at my cottage, so I'll be heading outside to apparate," Tom said.

"You can apparate from the back garden," Remus spoke up. "The wards let you come and go from there without actually leaving the protection of the fidelius, so none of the neighbors can see you come and go."

"Really? Well, that's considerably more convenient than trying to find somewhere unpopulated out there on the streets of London," Tom replied.

"I'll walk you out," Harry said quickly, leading Tom over to the door in the back of the kitchen that led to a narrow exterior stairwell that went up to the garden.

They exited the kitchen, climbed the moss-covered concrete steps and out into the overgrown garden where they paused.

"Do you want some more time with just your friends tomorrow, or can I…?" Tom asked, his voice trailing off with an unspoken question.

"Do you have time to drop by again tomorrow?" Harry asked hopefully.

Tom laughed. "Harry, I have virtually nothing specific to do, unless I decide to do it, and at the moment, I haven't yet decided to do much of _anything_. So yes, I have time."

"Ah… right. Well, if you want to drop by, I'd like you to," Harry said, ducking his head and shrugging.

"You're adorable."

Harry's head instantly jerked up and he glared at Tom, who just grinned back and chuckled. "Yes, Harry. I'd love to drop by tomorrow."

"Well, now I'm not so sure I want you to," Harry said haughtily before he sighed, grinned, and shook his head. "Yeah, that'd be brill."

"Alright, then. I suppose this is goodbye for now."

"Yeah," Harry said, looking up and meeting Tom's piercing eyes.

Tom reached across and cupped the side of Harry's face before pressing forward and kissing him. The pair parted their lips and kissed for several moments longer before Tom pulled back with a small gasp before leaning his forehead against Harry's. He grinned at him. "I really do love that I can do that."

"I love that you can do it too," Harry said, sounding breathless.

Tom grinned, leaned in for a quick peck on Harry's lips before stepping back, pulling his wand out from his robes, and twisted on the spot, disappearing with a soft crack.

— —

Harry woke to the sound of Hedwig's flustered screeching and a rhythmic tapping against the glass pane of the window in his room. He blinked blearily and reached blindly to the end table beside his bed where he managed to find his glasses and slip them onto his face. The tapping became more persistent and Harry frowned in confusion before pushing himself up from his bed and turning towards the window. He halted in step and blinked at what he saw. Tom's face grinned back at him from the other side of the glass. A moment later he had his wand up and pressed against the window, transfiguring it so that it could open outward with a hinge at the side, while before it had been a the sliding type that Harry had found could only barely open wide enough for Hedwig to get out to feed.

With the window now completely open, Tom, who was floating in mid-air again, without any support or broom, floated up higher and then seemed to step from his place mid-air, through the window, and inside.

"What are you _doing_ here?" Harry asked, incredulously.

"It's tomorrow," Tom said smirking. "You said I could come back tomorrow."

Harry laughed. "Uh… well, okay. Technically."

"It seemed like the sort of thing a teenager would do," Tom went on with a shrug, pulling the window closed behind him and coming to face Harry.

"Oh, so you're definitely a teenager now?"

"I'm embracing my inner teenager," Tom said, his eyes smiling. "I've got to get into character, right? I'll have to make it convincing, seeing as how I'm apparently going to be a student again in one month's time."

Harry laughed and reached out, wrapping his arms around Tom's shoulders and pulling him down for a kiss.

"Mmm," Tom hummed with obvious approval before the two broke apart. "Now that is _precisely_ what my inner teenager was hoping for."

Harry chuckled. "Okay, but you can't stay long. What if Sirius realizes you're here?"

"Your godfather is currently two floors down in the cellar keeping Lupin company."

"Yeah, _as a dog_. And Remus is a _wolf_. You don't think their hearing might be keen enough to notice?"

"Honestly? No, I don't, but if you're worried, I can easily cast a silencing spell." With that, Tom drew his wand and performed the familiar motion of the sound barrier ward. He turned back and grinned at Harry, who rolled his eyes back at Tom.

"I'm surprised you never tried dropping in like this while I was at the Dursley's. You could apparate directly into my room, there."

"I was still processing things, then. Well, I _still am_ , honestly, but less so now, I think. Before, I spent my nights debating with myself over every little thing. What I wanted, what I _didn't_ want. Whether or not I even had the right to want things. What it meant if I wanted things that I'd never thought I _could_ want… I've had so much trouble sleeping these last few weeks, entirely because my head is far too busy each night as I argue with myself over every little detail until I finally pass out. But this night, the debate was short. So here I am. But if you're not up for anything, that's fine, really. I don't want to rush you or pressure you, I just… I just wanted to be here."

"Oh…" Harry said, feeling too shocked to come up with a more articulate response. He was suddenly very self-conscious and overly aware of the fact that he had nothing more than boxers on. He glanced down at himself and looked back up to find that Tom's eyes had followed his down, but not back up. He was looking down at Harry with visible desire, and Harry felt his heart speed up and his groin perk up.

"I… uhm, if I was _up for something,_ what exactly did you have in mind?" Harry asked, his voice shaking nervously.

Tom's eyes locked on Harry's and there was mischief in them. "I can show you," he said huskily. "If you'll let me."

"What…?" Harry asked.

Tom leaned in, placing a kiss against Harry's neck. "Can it be a surprise?" he whispered into Harry's ear.

"Surprise?" Harry echoed weakly as he tipped his head to the side, unconsciously exposing his neck more to Tom's mouth.

"Yes," Tom hissed into Harry's ear before pulling the lobe between his teeth and letting his breath feather across Harry's ear and jaw. "I want to experience your reaction. You don't have to do anything, just let me do it. No reciprocation; all you have to do is take what I give you. Can I?"

Harry's jaw floundered and his eyes fluttered shut against his will as Tom began kissing down the side of Harry's neck, working his way to Harry's collar bone.

"Please," Tom whispered as he left Harry's neck and trailed his tongue down the center of Harry's chest. He was slowly lowering himself down onto his knees in front of Harry, placing kisses as he went.

"I - whuh…" Harry panted breathlessly, and looked down, speechless, watching Tom as he moved further down Harry's exposed chest.

Tom reached Harry's boxers and nuzzled his face against Harry's groin, eliciting a startled moan from between Harry's lips.

"Oh god," Harry said as one part wanted to toss his head back and bask in the experience, while another part demanded he keep his eyes on Tom.

"Can I?" Tom whispered again against the now visibly protruding shape of Harry's cock through his boxers.

"Yes," Harry gasped, nodding his head rapidly. "Yes, yes," he went on, his jaw floundering silently after that.

Tom reached up and wasted no time in pulling Harry's boxers down over his hardness, which bounced back up at full attention. Harry's heart was racing so fast he was sure he would pass out if much more happened. But then Tom wrapped his hand around Harry's cock, giving it a few torturously slow strokes, drawing out a strangled moan from Harry's lips.

And then it was warm, and wet, and there was this indescribable suction, and Harry's knees buckled, but Tom held him steady for a moment, holding his hands against Harry's hips and bobbing his head back and forth, _moaning_ around Harry's cock.

"Oh my god, oh god," Harry chanted hoarsely as his mind seemed to check out entirely and he was left with nothing but his penis, Tom's mouth, his desire, and the indescribably amazing thing Tom was doing to him. Harry's hands flailed at his sides as he found he wanted to _do_ something with them, but had no idea what. Then one of Tom's hands caught Harry's and guided it to his hair, burying Harry's fingers into Tom's hair as he continued to bob back and forth, suctioning in his cheeks with each outward stroke and moaning with each inward.

Harry's other hand joined his first in Tom's hair, holding him loosely, but grateful for the new surface to hold.

Tom's hand now reached around and grabbed Harry's arse, squeezing his buttocks and massaging it before starting to pull Harry's pelvis forward with each inward movement of his mouth on Harry's cock. Harry found himself following Tom's guide and without really consciously granting permission, he found himself thrusting forward into Tom's mouth, gripping more tightly at Tom's hair and head and pulling him in.

Tom's moans doubled in enthusiasm and volume and his hand disappeared from Harry's arse. Harry was whispering out gibberish, overwhelmed and overcome with pleasure and the intensity of it all. He could feel it building deep in him and it was coming fast. Tom's moans were so insane and so hot and it felt _so_ good. He couldn't believe this was happening. It was so good. _So good…_

"Oh god - I'm - I'm gonna cum," he gasped out in warning and his grip loosened, ready to let Tom pull away, but he didn't. If anything his ministrations became even more enthusiastic and his moans more desperate. It was too much and Harry fell over the edge, jerking and spasming with the intensity of his orgasm. He called out hoarsely, tightly gripping Tom's shoulder for support as his knees nearly gave out.

Tom kept sucking away at Harry's cock, moaning wantonly as Harry's cum filled his mouth, dribbled down his chin, and he jerked and spasmed. Harry became aware then that Tom's right arm was down, moving frantically back and forth, drawing Harry's gaze down further still to Tom's exposed cock in his hand. Cum spurted out, covering his hand and some of the floor beneath him as one final moan hummed its way through Harry's cock, still in Tom's mouth. Another shockwave of pleasure shot through Harry at the insane arousal the sight gave him, and he fell back onto the bed several steps behind him, panting breathlessly.

"I can't b— oh god," Harry panted as he felt his whole body turn to pudding. "Merlin… holy shit. I can't believe…"

Tom was riding out the last few jolts of his own orgasm if the strangled groan that escaped his lips was any indication. Finally he let out a staggering exhale and relaxed back on his heels letting his arm fall weakly to his side and breathing heavily. After a moment of panting had passed, Tom shakily pushed himself to his feet and went over to Harry who was collapsed on the bed. He shoved Harry with a grin on his swollen lips, forcing him to rotate so he was laying lengthwise on the bed and then scooted in beside him.

"Wow," Harry said after the two had lain in silence for a long moment.

"That was even better than in my head," Tom said with a chuckle.

"Uh-yuh," Harry said inarticulately, earning another snicker from Tom beside him. "I know for sure that it's gonna be in _my_ head for a damn long time, now."

"Mmm, I like the idea of you wanking to visions of me sucking your cock," Tom hummed.

Harry guffawed before just laughing and letting out a happy sigh. "That was amazing."

"You're welcome," Tom replied smugly.

"I suppose you probably knew what you were doing, though… I mean, you've probably - no, _you've got to_ have done that before. It was just… too good."

Tom snorted. "I never have."

"What?" Harry asked, incredulously, as he pushed himself up a bit on one arm so he could look at Tom laying on his back beside him. "No way!"

"No, really. I've certainly _had_ my cock sucked by others before, but _Lord Voldemort_ gets on his knees for _no man_." He snorted and rolled his eyes before closing them with a peaceful expression on his face.

"Except for me, apparently."

Tom grinned. "Just you."

"You seemed to really, uhm… enjoy it," Harry remarked trying to sound casual and not as curious as he really was.

Tom smirked, his eyes still closed. "I've only been fantasizing about it for the past week… or two. Probably closer to two."

"Fantasizing about sucking me off?"

Tom opened one eye and peaked up at Harry. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"I guess… I've just never imagined giving another guy head," Harry said with an awkward shrug of the shoulder that was mostly supporting him. "I never really imagined that doing it would, um… be enjoyable to the person who was doing, and not receiving.

"You didn't even think you were into guys a month ago. It doesn't surprise me that your imagined interactions with other men would still be rather limited in scope."

"What… what else have you uhm… fantasized about doing… with me?" Harry asked, nervously.

A sly grin spread across Tom's lips. "Maybe next time I feel like wanking before bed, I'll call you up on the watch and tell you what I'm picturing."

Harry groaned. "Oh man… you're gonna kill me."

Tom chuckled. "A month ago, sure, but that's not the goal these days, love. I want you very much alive and breathing." Tom turned over onto his side, reaching his arm over Harry chest and resting his head up on Harry's shoulder. "Mmm… this really is lovely."

"What is?" Harry asked, feeling breathless.

Tom chuckled. " _Cuddling_ , I suppose. That's really all I can call it, honestly. Another first for me."

"You never uhm… cuddled after stuff?"

Tom snickered. " _Stuff_ ," he echoed mockingly, earning him a playful slap from Harry.

"Shut up!"

"No, I never cuddled. I can't hardly recall any physical interactions with other people that I did because I _wanted_ to do them. I always had some other motive. I took it as far as I needed for whatever goal I had in mind, and _cuddling_ was never part of the deal. I never _wanted_ to just _lay_ with someone like this."

"But you want to now?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"Yes… is that alright?" Tom asked, raising his head and looking at Harry with slight worry. "If you want me out of here, Harry, just say the word. I did wake you up in the middle of the night."

"No!" Harry said quickly. "No. Stay. Please?"

Tom's face softened and he lay his head back down. "You know… I never entertained any thoughts or fantasies on this sort of behavior before. The whole affectionate-lover thing. It was just so outside of my own _self-image_ , I suppose. Being the one to _give_ the blow-job, rather than receive it… but once the idea entered my mind, I just couldn't get it out. When I was younger, I defined myself as a top and nothing more. I would dominate, but I would absolutely not be dominated. Anything that I perceived as the actions of the _weaker half_ were absolutely out of the question. It was such a naive viewpoint, honestly." Tom let out a soft sigh, shifting so he could bring his other arm up under himself and thread his fingers into Harry's hair and massage his scalp. Harry hummed in approval at the pleasant touch.

"Of course, a healthy relationship is hardly defined so strictly," Tom mused. "Both partners can do anything. It's a common misconception that all gay relationships are defined by 'who the woman in the relationship is'. Who is 'on top' and who is 'on bottom'. It's silly, really."

"Oh… yeah," Harry said, not really all that sure, but agreeing none the less, to avoid exposing his ignorance on the subject.

"Of course I haven't really _thought_ about any of this for decades. It doesn't feel that long ago… It certainly doesn't feel like it's been nearly _fifty years_ since the last time I did anything like this… _forty years_ since the last time I even properly _wanked_. It's like my perception of time has been completely turned on it's head. It's just so… strange," he said with a confused sort of musing tone. "It's one of those things that's been keeping me up at night. My perceptions are off, and I know it. But I don't notice it when it's happening, only when I re-examine my thoughts later."

"Off, how so?" Harry asked, curiously.

"Just… just the way I think and feel about things. Well, obviously it's drastically different than how I thought or felt before my soul was mostly restored, but I can't help but feel like it's changed quite a lot even since then. Like… like when I restored the ring, and then restored the locket. I've changed each time, but it was hard to really tell at the time. _My mind_ is working differently now than it did, even two weeks ago. I suppose hormones are no doubt playing a role, but it seems to go further than that. I _feel_ more reckless. More _impulsive!_ I really do feel like a bloody _teenager_ some of the time! And the rest of the time I don't even know how to label what I feel like, but I most certainly don't feel like I've lived for seventy years. But why would that happen? It's not like I've _lost_ any of my memories. I still remember a full sixty-odd years worth of memories."

"Well…" Harry began slowly, tossing the thoughts around in his mind, "the pieces of your soul that you locked away in your horcruxes were younger, right? You said that they get frozen in stasis, so they don't get to age or anything, they're like a snapshot of who you were at the time you made that horcrux. Like how the diary was a snapshot of you at sixteen… only, you know, sort of twisted by the spells you put on the diary so it could possess people. Well now that you've put several of your horcruxes back, a huge chunk of your soul really _is_ younger. Maybe…?"

Tom sighed and shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. I've considered that as well. I keep arguing with myself, bouncing back and forth between embracing this _youth_ , or trying to… I don't know, _control_ my more irrationally immature instincts."

"And tonight you chose to embrace it?" Harry asked, a small grin curling the corner of his mouth.

Tom chuckled.

"Tonight I embraced it."

"Can't say I'm sorry you did."

"Can't say that I'm sorry I did, either," Tom smirked.

— —

The warm sun shone down upon Harry's face, and the faint tweeting of birds could be heard from outside the partially open window. Harry blearily opened his eyes and found himself looking into the peacefully sleeping face of Tom, directly next to him. Tom was on his back with his left arm reached up over his head, lazily stretched across the pillow. Harry was stretched across Tom's side, one arm reaching out over Tom's bare chest, and his head resting on Tom's shoulder.

It was an amazing way to wake up. It was also rather disorienting. He didn't even remember falling asleep.

Harry blinked several times, attempting to process the situation he found himself in, but then he let a slow sigh out, closed his eyes, and decided to just enjoy it. Tom was warm and soft. He smelled wonderful, and looked so peaceful. Harry lay there several minutes, and nearly fell back asleep again when he felt Tom shift slightly, and Harry felt the arm he was laying on move and bend at the elbow. Tom's hand came up and combed gently through Harry's hair, rubbing his finger tips against Harry's scalp. Harry hummed pleasantly and nuzzled into Tom's chest.

"I haven't slept in the same room with someone else since I left Hogwarts when I was eighteen," Tom said in a musing voice. "And I've _never_ slept in the same bed as someone else."

"Never?"

"I never trusted anybody to the point where I could let my guard down enough to _sleep_ with them there."

"So you trust me?"

Tom's eyes opened and he looked into Harry's eyes. "I do. Do you trust me?"

The corner of Harry's mouth turned up. "I think it's fairly obvious that I do. I fell asleep with you here, too."

"I still marvel at the fact that you can trust me, given our history."

"I don't really count anything before the Ministry. Not even that, really… anything before the day you visited me in the park."

"You shouldn't just disregard who I was before that."

"I don't _disregard_ it… I just know you've changed. You're a different person now then you were before that. I've chosen to judge you on who you are now, not who you were."

"How do you know I'm not just faking it all? That this isn't all some overly elaborate ploy to get you to like me and let your guard down?"

Harry smiled softly and shook his head. "I know your not faking it."

"You have no doubts? None at all?"

"None."

Tom looked at him with a look of mild wonder and disbelief on his face. "I hope I can live up to the faith you've placed in me," he whispered leaning in and placing a long, feather light, kiss upon Harry's lips. "I hope I never disappoint you. I want to be the person you think I am," he said softly against Harry's lips.

Harry reached up his free arm, cupping Tom's face and pulling him back in for another kiss; this one deeper and longer.

They ended up snogging for quite a while before finally finishing up and dragging themselves out of the bed.

Tom redressed in his clothes from the night before which, fortunately, were not the same clothes he'd worn the _day_ before. He used a few charms to freshen himself up while Harry grabbed a change of clothes and slipped out to take a shower. Harry came back, dressed and damp a short time later to find Tom sitting cross-legged on Harry's bed with the Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5 open in his lap.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked with mild bemusement.

Tom glanced up and grinned. "Refresher."

Harry snorted. "As if _you_ need a refresher."

"You'd be surprised. It's easy to lose track of the simple and mundane things when you've spent decades focusing on far more complex magics. I should probably pick up several of the schools standard text books, just to skim for a reminder. And of course there's still the _off chance_ that there's _something_ different in the school books you've been using, compared to the ones I learned from fifty years ago. Given the rate of change and development in fundamental magics, that's not very likely, but there's still a _chance_."

Harry chuckled. "You can always borrow mine. We'll probably be making a trip to Diagon Alley in another week or so and picking up our text books for next year. The letters should be coming any day now."

"Ah, yes - they should include your OWL results, right?"

"Mm hmm," Harry hummed as he picked up a few loose pieces of clothing from his floor and tossed them into the hamper next to his wardrobe.

"Hermione seemed to be rather frazzled with the prospect of her results coming back with anything less than a perfect in every subject," Tom remarked. "Is she always like that?"

Harry grinned. "Yup," he said, popping the 'P'.

Tom chuckled. "She's really quite charming. I like her."

"I was afraid you didn't, since the two of you sort of argued a bit yesterday," Harry said looking at him sheepishly as he finally came over and sat down on the bed beside Tom.

"I like a person who's willing to stand up for what they value, even if I disagree with them," Tom said with a shrug. "Although, I must say, Ginny Weasley's behavior does concern me."

Harry cringed. "Er, yeah… she's a bit… _much_ , lately. She's really not usually like that."

"I was afraid of that… I worry that there may be some subconscious part of her that somehow recognizes me, despite the fidelius charm I used. It's about the only thing I could imagine for her being so openly hostile."

"Oh, no, I don't think that's it, actually."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, I mean, she was pretty hostile to the idea of you the last few days, even before actually _seeing_ you for the first time, so I doubt it's some subconscious part of her brain, recognizing you as _Tom Riddle_."

"Then why the passive aggressive hostility?"

"Er… apparently she's jealous," Harry said, grimacing. "Hermione says that Ginny still fancies me. Which seems mental, seeing as how she's actually dating someone else right now. I mean, if she's still hung up on me so badly, why start dating someone else?"

Tom hummed thoughtfully, nodding his head slowly. "Well, who is this boy she's dating?"

"Dean Thomas."

"If I recall correctly, isn't he one of your roommates?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Perhaps she was just trying to get you to notice her. She picked someone she knew you couldn't ignore, specifically to try and instill a sense of jealousy."

Harry scrunched up his face. "You don't really think that could be the only reason she's with him, do you?"

"Women are ridiculously complicated creatures, and a woman infatuated with a man who does not return her favor can be a dangerous beast, indeed. Believe me, I know. I've been dancing around Bellatrix's attempted advances for longer than I care to remember."

"Ew," Harry said, scrunching up his face in disgust.

"Yes, I have trouble imagining how she'd find my old visage desirable, but I suppose she _was_ rather insane, even before Azkaban. Plus there was her attraction to my power, to take into consideration —"

Harry laughed, "Er, no, that's not what I meant. I just thought… _ew_ _Bellatrix_ …"

Tom snorted and shook his head chuckling. "Are you saying that you _don't_ find the image of my old persona visually appalling?"

"I —" Harry floundered for a moment. "I don't know, honestly. I certainly found it terrifying before, but aside from being terrified, I hadn't really given it much thought. And mostly I was just terrified of your whole 'killing me' thing." Harry paused, thoughtfully for a moment before looking back up at Tom. "I know yesterday you said you wouldn't do it here, but I'm pretty sure that, other than you and me, it's just Sirius and Remus in the house right now, and they should both be asleep at this point. Do you think you could… show me?"

"My old appearance?" Tom asked, somewhat incredulously.

"Yeah… I know it probably sounds weird and stupid… I don't even know why I want to see it so bad. I just can't get the idea out of my head."

Tom frowned in silence for a moment before he reached into his shirt and pulled out his wand. He did a quick nonverbal spell and Harry could see a hazy sort of image seem to appear in the air in front of Tom's face, but from Harry's vantage it was intelligible.

"What's that?"

"It shows me who is in the house and where they are," Tom said, looking it over. "Well, you seem to be right. Just us, Sirius, and Lupin; and they appear to each be in their own bedrooms on the floor above us."

"So, like the marauder's map?"

"The what?"

"Oh, it's this map that my dad and his friends made while they were at Hogwarts. It shows them the whole school and everyone who is in it and where they are."

Tom's eyes widened. "Merlin, that's impressive. This particular spell wouldn't work for something as large as the whole of Hogwarts, and certainly not for as many people as fill the place during the school year. But I can imagine a few ways I could modify it to achieve something like that. So your father, Black, and Lupin… oh, you know what… I think Wormtail did mention something like that! You saw his name on that map."

"Yeah, that's right. And they did all make it together. Although I get the impression that Remus did most of the work."

"Really? Huh. Interesting."

"So does this mean you'll do it?"

"Do it? Oh… right." Tom leaned forward and paused a moment to chew on his thumbnail thoughtfully. Finally he sighed, shrugged and scooted off the bed. "Alright, fine, fine."

Harry grinned and sat up straighter.

"Not sure why you look so pleased," Tom mumbled before huffing out a breath and looking down at himself. "My body changes quite a lot in size, so my clothes won't fit right at all. I gain a lot of height, but my hips become so narrow my trousers are likely to fall right off if I'm not careful. I could transfigure my shirt into a robe and save us both the sight of my body."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's _fine_."

"You say that now," Tom muttered before running a nervous hand through his hair and finally coming to stand straight in front of Harry. He held out his wand and pointed it at his chest as he performed a tight little movement and closed his eyes.

Harry watched with utter fascination as Tom's body twisted and transformed before his eyes. He grew taller and thinner and his muscles became more starkly defined and visible beneath his now-thin, papery skin, as nearly all his body fat melted away seeming to leave nothing but muscle and bone. The faint texture of scales was visible in some areas of his skin, and the tone went so pale it was nearly white in many places. The only real coloration left were from the overly visible purplish veins, and reddish tint on the thin skin around his eyes, around his nostrils and lips, and the palms of his hands. Tom's black hair receded into nothing, vanishing and being replaced with the smooth, lightly scaled dome of Tom's now bald head.

Tom twisted and stretched his head on his neck in an almost feline sort of maneuver, as the transformation seemed to complete. Tom even stretched his mouth open and closed twice, as if his jaw felt strange and needed readjustment. The motion exposed his now slightly pointed teeth. Harry supposed his jaw really must feel odd when he realized how much wider Tom could open his mouth than was even remotely normal. It wasn't something he'd ever been aware of as being a feature of 'Voldemort's' body before, but Harry realized it probably came with all the other snake-like traits.

Tom's hand, now with unnaturally long, thin, boney fingers, had held the top of his trousers as the transformation had progressed, and Harry could see that Tom was probably correct in that they would have slipped right off his hips had he not done so. Held up as they were, Tom's additional height was now clearly visible from the large gap between the bottom of his pant legs and the tops of his feet.

Finally Tom pushed out a slow deep breath and opened his eyes, looking warily at Harry. The eyes were strange to look at. They were the shape Harry had come to associate with Tom, but the eyes themselves were somewhat bloodshot, the irises were a deep red, and they were vertically slitted, reminding Harry of a cat's eye. The strong brow over them was also the right shape for the Tom Harry had come to know so well, but there were no eyebrows, only a smooth, greyish-white expanse, with scattered blueish blood vessels.

"Wow," Harry whispered, unconsciously standing up and walking forward. Tom widened his eyes and took an unconscious step back but froze as Harry reached up with his hand and traced his fingers over Tom's cheek.

" _Wow_ is not the word that I would expect to come to mind," Tom remarked.

Harry paused in his movement, his finger tips now less than an inch from Tom's skin. "Do you mind?"

"Do I mind you touching me?" Tom echoed with an edge of amused incredulity. "No, Harry. You can touch me all you want. Only you. And whenever you want." He smirked and Harry paused a bit in amazement at the familiar expression gracing Tom's changed features.

He could still see Tom in that face, especially with that smirk, but the face was older and _different_. Although, fortunately, it didn't look nearly as old as Harry knew Tom should have been in this body.

"So strange," Harry mused quietly as his fingers brushed gently along Tom's sharp cheekbones and back to his shrunken ears. His whole palm rest against the side of Tom's head and brushed gently along the back of Tom's smooth pale head.

Tom let out a small snort. "Yes, _strange_." However, as Harry's hand stroked along the back of Tom's head and along the side of his neck and behind his flattened ear, Tom's eyes fluttered shut slightly and he arched his neck to the side, exposing it further.

"You like that?" Harry asked with the hint of a smile in his voice as he gently ran his fingers and palm along Tom's scalp and neck.

"I am… unaccustomed to the sensation of touch in this form," Tom muttered softly.

"Does it feel different? Different from your newer body, I mean," Harry asked curiously and began trailing his fingertips along Tom's neck.

"I'm very sensitive like this," Tom said in a hushed voice. "Hyper awareness was one of the attributes that I intentionally added to myself, via some of the serpentine additions I engineered."

"So you really did do some of this to yourself? This appearance? It's not just all from having made the horcruxes?" Harry mused curiously.

"My appearance was already changing quite a lot on it's own. But I did perform several rituals, and performed several permanent human transfigurations that contributed to the process, adding a few desired traits. Basically anything aesthetically snake-like I actually did to myself," Tom spoke in a distracted sort of tone. His eyes remained closed and his face uncharacteristically peaceful as he basked in the gentle touch of Harry's hand against his skin.

Harry's hand continued to caress along the side and back of Tom's smooth head and neck while his other hand came up and rest against Tom's chest, at the collar of his button-down shirt. The top three buttons were already undone, as he'd only lazily tossed it on earlier while Harry was in the shower, and the shirt hung loosely on his now thin, angular frame. Harry's fingers slipped between the open shirt collar and started to stroke along the chest and collarbone there.

"Why are you doing this?" Tom whispered, sounding legitimately bewildered.

"It's… fascinating," Harry replied somewhat haltingly, as if he weren't really sure of the answer himself. "It's enticing. I can't take my eyes off you. Your skin feels amazing, too. It's so smooth…"

"I should disgust you," Tom said in a hushed voice.

"I know."

"You don't sound disgusted."

"I'm not," Harry said gently, sounding almost surprised himself. His hand that had been at Tom's neck came down and joined the other one on his chest. His fingers trailed down the center along the buttons and his eyes were fixed on them. Waiting. Debating.

"Harry—?" Tom began hesitantly as he looked down at him.

Harry's hand hovered on Tom's chest for a silent moment before his fingers slipped around the button and slipped it free from the other side of the shirt. His hand slid down to the next button, and then the next, until the shirt was completely open in the front.

Tom watched him, silent and mildly bewildered. Harry pushed the shirt open, his palms pressed flat against Tom's chest as he spread the fabric apart.

"I was so afraid of you… and I _hated_ you. But I never really _looked_ at you," Harry whispered as his hands slowly moved around Tom's flat pale chest.

"My appearance was often one of the things that tended to cause that fear in people."

"I guess… But now I find that I think you're kind of beautiful."

Tom looked down at Harry with an arched hairless brow and a look of incredulity. "I'm not sure you'd find many people who would agree with you on that."

Harry managed to rip his eyes away from Tom's chest and looked up, meeting his eyes. He gave a weak self-deprecating laugh and ducked his head. "Yeah… how messed up am I? Feeling attracted to you even when you look like this?"

"Well, I suppose it's a solid sign that you're not after me just for my good looks."

Harry chuckled and shrugged sheepishly. His fingers traced lightly over Tom's smooth flat stomach, brushing over Tom's naval with a feather light touch, causing the taller man to shiver. Harry's hands flattened along Tom's stomach, sliding beneath the shirt and moving up and down his sides, spreading it open further as he went.

"You feel kind of cold," Harry remarked thoughtfully.

"I always feel cold when I'm like this," Tom confirmed with a slight nod. "There are few things I honestly enjoyed, _before_ , but hot baths was one of them. It was the only time I really felt warm. Your hands feel searing hot to me."

Harry's hands jerked away and he looked up, worried. "Am I hurting you?"

Tom grabbed Harry's wrists, stopping any further movement and moved his hands back so they rest on his side. "It doesn't hurt. It's… quite wonderful, actually."

"Really?" Harry looked back down at Tom's exposed chest and his own hands just barely visible beneath the open shirt and pressed against Tom's sides. "So your transfiguration back into this form isn't just looks, it actually replicates the way you felt in your old body?"

"Almost entirely," Tom confirmed with a nod.

"What's different?"

"I'm not entirely sure how to describe it. I can only assume it's more related to the difference in my soul now, compared to before. Some sensations and perceptions are different then they were before. Mostly they're far more vibrant than before. Everything was muted, flat, and cold before. Everything felt… hallow."

"But it's not now?"

"Many of the modifications I made to my body over the years were to try and compensate for the flattening and lessening of my perceptions that was a result of the degradation of my soul. I actually had to lessen many of those modifications for this form just because they would overwhelm me now."

"What perceptions are different in this form from your normal body?"

Tom hummed thoughtfully and his hands which had been loosely gripping Harry's forearms began to trail slowly up and down Harry's arms before one raised up and he brushed the back knuckles of his fingers against Harry's cheek. Then he raised his hand up to the top of Harry's head and began to tap out a rhythm on Harry's scalp.

"What are you doing?"

"Do you not recognize it?"

Harry frowned in confusion for a moment before he realized that Tom's tapping was in perfect time with his pulse.

"My heartbeat?"

"I hear it. I practically _feel_ it, actually. Through your hands against my skin, but that's another sensory perception all together. My vision is different as well. I can sense your body heat in a way that I perceive as vision, but isn't quite the same. It's another sense entirely, actually. As for my actual vision, a normal human eye has three types of what's called 'cone cells' for perceiving color, but my current eyes have four. It's called Tetrachromacy."

Harry raised his eyebrows curiously. "So what does that do?"

"I can see a much greater variety of color than is normal, so I can see differences in things that your eyes do not see. I can also see better in the dark, thanks to some other modifications. Normally to get better night vision, you lose color information, not gain, but I went to a great deal of trouble to make sure I got both."

"And that's why your eyes look like that?" Harry asked, looking up into Tom's eyes.

"Mmm, yes, for the slitted look, anyway. However, for the color I made them red intentionally for the intimidation factor. When I began to lose all pigmentation in my body they actually turned a very very pale blue, which while mildly interesting, wasn't nearly as frightening as I knew red would be. Plus, they always looked bloodshot, so if most of my eyes were going to be reddish anyway, I figured I'd may as well make the pupil red as well."

Harry nodded thoughtfully and looked back down at Tom's chest and his own hands, pressed against the man's sides. "You said that you feel cold, and my hands feel hot…" Harry began thoughtfully.

"Yes?"

"How about this?" Harry asked with a small grin before wrapping his arms completely around Tom's back, beneath the shirt, and pulling the taller, thinner man in, pressing their chests together.

Tom gasped before letting out a slow breathy whimper.

"Is this okay?" Harry asked, his voice muffled by his face being pressed against Tom's collarbone.

"Wonderful," Tom breathed out, leaning forward and letting his head fall down onto Harry's.

Harry hummed, grinning to himself and trailed his hands up and down Tom's back. "So the scales are something you added?"

"Mmhmm," Tom hummed.

"I like them."

Tom chuckled. "Do you now?" he remarked, amused. "Why is that?"

"I don't know," Harry said, shaking his head slightly against Tom's chest. "I can't quite work out why any of this is… I don't know… affecting me, like this. I didn't think it would. Not like _this_."

"Affecting you like what?"

Harry shifted and pressed his groin against Tom's upper thigh. Tom's pulled in a short quick gasp of air as he felt Harry's arousal against his hip.

"Like that," Harry whispered.

"Oh…" Tom breathed and then paused. "Really?" he asked, sounding honestly bewildered.

Harry laughed and buried his face further into Tom's shoulder. "God, I know. I can't believe it either, when I think about it. But… ugh… I look at you like this and something in me just…" Harry shook his head, unable to find any way to properly articulate what he was feeling.

"Just, what?"

"I don't know, I just _like it_. It's so weird. I know I shouldn't. It's not like I've forgotten the last two times I saw you like this. It's not like I've forgotten how terrified I was, or the things you did to me…"

"I'm sorry for that," Tom said quietly.

"Oh shut it. I don't want to hear you apologize for stuff from before."

"What? Why? I _should_ apologize. Again and again. It's just not _enough_. Words could never make up for what I did. I —"

"I said, I don't want to hear it. Staying hung up on the past isn't going to help us _now_. I want to look forward."

Tom sighed. "If only it were that simple."

"We _were_ talking about my newly discovered perversion. I liked that better than any unnecessary guilt trips."

Tom chuckled. "Your _perversion_ , hmm?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a grin as he shifted again, rubbing his groin against Tom's upper leg, and the top of his own hip against Tom's groin.

"Mmm…" Tom hummed with a tinge of surprise. "I suppose it's good I wasn't entirely faithful to my old form when creating the transfiguration."

"Huh?"

"I left my cock alone," Tom chuckled. "Saw little point in making it match my old body."

"Do I want to know what happened to it before?"

"No. And I'd rather not be reminded either."

"Gotcha. Consider it stricken from the record."

Tom pulled back and looked down into Harry's eyes. "You would honestly want to engage in… amorous activities with me _like this?"_

Harry looked up into Tom's sharp red eyes and felt like his lungs just couldn't get enough air all of a sudden.

" _God yes…"_ Harry hissed breathlessly before pushing himself up on his tiptoes and kissing Tom passionately.

Tom moaned into Harry's mouth, and Harry moaned back in inexplicable delight as he felt Tom's tongue begin to dance with his own. It was longer than it had any right to be, and it felt slimmer and smoother than it did in Tom's now-normal form. One of Harry's hands slipped out from beneath Tom's shirt and reached up to grip at the back of Tom's head, pulling him in deeper, while below his groin ground fervently against Tom.

" _Ugh, do that again,"_ Tom hissed, breaking free of Harry's mouth.

"Ungh.. What? Do what again?" Harry asked, breathlessly.

" _Speak to me in parseltongue,"_ Tom hissed, diving back down and pulling Harry into another searing kiss.

" _Oh shit… that's… am I doing it now?"_

" _It's so amusing that you can't tell."_

" _Shut up! It's not a skill I've really exercised"_

" _Then stop talking and just kiss me again."_

" _I thought you wanted me to talk some more?"_

" _I've just changed my mind. Kissing is better."_

Harry eagerly pressed forward, amazed at how Tom's lipless mouth was both very strange, and incredible at the same time. He _wanted_ it, so much more than he had any reason to. Tom's skin felt so foreign and yet it called to him. His body was so gangly, and yet he _loved it_. Something irrational just screamed in his mind that he _wanted_ this man, _like this_. Both ways, really, but… Merlin, something about Tom looking like this set Harry on fire in a way that was entirely irrational.

Tom's long arms reached down, grabbing Harry's buttock and pulling him up so their groins were even. He held Harry, off the ground, and Harry's legs came up, wrapping around Tom's narrow boney hips. The next thing Harry knew, he was being pressed against the wall beside the door, and the pair were moaning wantonly into each others mouths while they began to grind relentlessly against each other.

Harry's mind began to pick out the hissing in amongst the moaning, and it seemed to trigger that weird _something_ inside him that was so aroused by Tom in this form.

"Ungh, _Yesssssssss,"_ Harry called out as his head fell back against the wall and Tom began molesting his neck with that outrageously long and dexterous tongue of his. Tom continued thrusting against Harry's erection, grinding their clothed cocks together and generating the most torturously wonderful friction. One of Tom's hands massaged Harry's arse while the other held his back as he pinned him against the wall. Harry thrust back, working entirely off of adrenaline and instinct as he knew he had no idea what he was doing outside of what his body _wanted_.

" _Sssoo warm… so good,"_ Tom was hissing against Harry's neck.

" _Tom… yessss, unngh!"_ Harry hissed out as he felt the quickly approaching promise of release building in his groin. _"Oh god. Tom, I'm gonna… oh shit, I think I'm gonna…"_

" _Nngh, YESSsss, Harry. Come for me."_

"Oh god," Harry gasped and his body jerked violently against Tom with a spasm of pleasure that rocketed through him. His groin jerked against Tom, pressing against him and the wall, trying to squeeze out every last drop of pleasure he could. Just as Harry's bodily spasms began to fade, Tom moaned out long and low. It was a feral sort of sound, with the most bizarre and wonderful _hissing_ accompaniment. Tom flinched and twitched against Harry, nearly crushing him against the wall as he rode out his own orgasm. Finally he relaxed and Harry slid down from where he'd been pressed between Tom and the wall. Tom was arched forward, resting his head both against the wall and Harry's shoulder while he panted heavily.

"I can't believe that just happened," He said with a mildly incredulous laugh, through his heavy panting breaths. "I can't quite believe I finished either, actually."

"Uwhuh? Why?"

Tom chuckled, "I have never reached climax in this form. I lost the physical ability long before I had reached this point in my life."

"Oh."

"Great Merlin…" Tom panted. "I can't believe…" he paused and laughed, pulling away and looking down at Harry and then reaching up and combing his fingers through Harry's hair. "Gods, you're unbelievable. Amazing and… unbelievable."

Harry chuckled weakly and ducked his head, feeling slightly self conscious all of a sudden. "Yeah… I guess it is kind of unbelievable. I still can't really say what's going on, I just… guh… you're so fucking hot like that. I can't explain why."

Tom barked out another stunned laugh and stepped away, pulling Harry with him as he moved back several paces and let himself fall onto Harry's bed, pulling Harry down beside him.

"I fear I may have broken you. I can't imagine anyone in their right mind thinking of _this_ as 'hot'." Tom said motioning to himself.

"But you _are_! Everything about you…" Harry shook his head and propped himself up on one elbow and let his other hand reach over and start moving about over Tom's exposed chest. "The shape of your hips, your flat stomach, your ribs and your chest…"

"My excessively protruding _ribs_ and emaciated _flat stomach_ are not _attractive._ "

"Well, I guess I'm just messed up in the head then," Harry said exasperated. "You should be grateful. Apparently you managed to come across the one person whose preferences are broken enough that I look at you like this and actually like what I see."

"I suppose it could somehow have something to do with our shared soul and identical magical cores," Tom mused, dubiously. "I'm not sure _how_ exactly that would effect your sexual attractions…"

"That parseltongue stuff was hot too," Harry said thoughtfully, as he let his head fall down and rest upon Tom's shoulder.

"Mmmm… _yesssss it wasss."_

Harry shivered. "Ohh… god, am I going to react like that every time I hear you speak parseltongue now?"

"React like what?" Tom asked with a laugh.

"Like a completely perverted horn-dog. That's like a shot of pure arousal, right to my groin. _And I just came!_ That shouldn't even be possible."

"Well, I suspect if we fall into the habit of talking dirty in parseltongue every time we play around, it probably _will_ become a pretty powerful trigger. Can't say I really mind the idea. I've been itching to speak it with you more often, but wasn't sure how to bring it up."

"Mmm… yeah, well, if you feel like hissing at me the next time we uh… _play around_ , you won't hear me argue."

"Only if you hiss back."

Harry laughed and finally let out a happy sigh.

"I still can't believe you _like_ the way I look," Tom mused after a few moments of silence had passed.

"I don't know what it is… something about seeing you like that is just so… powerful. It's intense, and it makes me _want you_ so bad."

"So are you saying you _don't_ want me as much in my other form?"

Harry barked out a laugh. "Uh, no. Because I definitely like you like that too."

"Mind if I change back? I'm getting a bit chilled."

"Huh? Oh! Sure!" Harry pushed himself up so he was no longer laying on Tom's side.

Tom grabbed his wand and performed a quick little motion with it over himself and over the span of a mere ten seconds, he morphed and shifted back to his normal self, filling out his clothes properly now, and suddenly regrowing his hair in the exact length and style it had been before.

Harry looked down at Tom's exposed chest and hummed appreciatively. "Mm… yes, I definitely like this too." Harry reached down and let his fingers dance over the surface of Tom's stomach which now featured a far more healthy amount of muscle and body fat. He had lightly visible abdominal muscles now, which was a stark difference from, what Harry had to mentally admit, _was_ an emaciated-looking flat stomach from before.

"Man, my brain really must have some wires crossed," Harry mused, shaking his head in wonder. "You look so different, in so many ways, but I love both. I _want you_ both ways."

"I suppose I should just take it and be grateful," Tom said with a quiet chuckle. "Here I was so sure you'd be horrified to see me in my old form. I thought it would bring to surface all of those memories you seem to be repressing and ignoring, about me being a monstrous asshole to you."

Harry rolled his eyes. He shifted and then grimaced and looked down towards his groin. "Here I just took a shower, and now I need another one."

Tom laughed, rolled onto his back more and aimed his wand at himself.

"Are you crazy!?" Harry exclaimed but Tom shot off a spell at his groin before Harry could move to stop him.

"You think I would honestly use a _regular_ cleansing spell on my most sensitive part?" Tom asked Harry with obvious amusement. "Believe me, this is an especially _delicate_ spell."

Harry looked dubious. Tom offered to do it for him as well, and with a little coaxing, he finally agreed. The pair laid on the bed for a few quiet moments, speaking in comfort here and there, but mostly enjoying each other's presence. Finally they climbed out of the small bed and finished re-dressing.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

It was still an hour until Ron and Hermione would likely come over, and Harry really had no idea how long it would be before Sirius climbed his way back out of bed.

It was Tom who suggested that they try taking advantage of their alone time to work on the animagus spell. Harry and Tom left the bedroom, finally shattering the silence ward that had surrounded them for most of the night, and made their way to the Drawing Room. Harry grabbed a book from one of the tables, and took it over to Tom.

"This is the book Sirius said he and my dad learned from when they were at Hogwarts," Harry explained as he sat down on the couch next to Tom. "He's gone over a few things from it with me, but nothings really worked so far. Mostly, I just gave myself a headache."

"What part wasn't working?" Tom asked curiously as he began to flip through the book.

"The meditations you're supposed to do at the start to work out what your animal form is."

"Meditation? Why not just use the spell?"

Harry blinked at him. "What spell?"

"There's a spell to induce the trance."

"Why didn't Sirius mention that there's a spell?" Harry asked, almost incredulously.

Tom shrugged and continued flipping through the book. He paused, flipped back a couple chapters, then after another momentary search he flipped all the way back to the front and checked the table of contents. After a few moments of searching that, he flipped to the _back_ of the book and checked the index. "Well, I suppose I might know why he didn't mention it. If this book was their only reference, then the reason would be that the book doesn't mention it either. There's absolutely nothing in here about the inducing spell."

"Wow… is the book really old or something? Maybe that spell was invented after this book was published?"

"Seems unlikely. It's probably just a stubborn author," Tom rolled his eyes.

"How so?"

"The spell is considered a 'cheat' by some. There's a certain crowd of animagus 'purists' that feel the process of 'finding your animal' to be an act of initiation. If you can't manage to do it naturally, you don't _deserve_ to learn the skill."

"So does that mean you've done the spell before?" Harry asked, sitting up straighter with interest.

"I performed the spell when I attempted to learn the animagus transformation many years ago, however like I said, it was a spectacular failure."

"So how do you know the spell works?" Harry said with a frown.

"I was incompatible. Honestly, as far as I'm concerned, the biggest reason to use the spell is so avoid wasting a great deal of time on a lost cause. The spell will tell you, straight off, if you're compatible with the transformation. Some people are literally incapable of becoming an animagus. Some part of it is incompatible with their magic, and no amount of meditation or effort will change that fact. You could waste months, or even _years_ attempting something you literally cannot do. Perform the spell, and you learn instantly if you can, or cannot do it. If you can, you then have to go through the normally arduous task of actually _learning_ to do it, but at least if you _cannot_ do it, you aren't wasting your time."

"So… you _can't_ be an animagus?" Harry asked, frowning with disappointment.

"I _couldn't_ do it before. But that could have been a result of my mutilated soul. Or, I really am just incompatible with it, in which case, no, I cannot."

"Alright. So what's the spell?"

"The spell is _animabilis invenio._ The trick to it is that you cannot cast it upon yourself. It must be cast upon you by someone else. Which, believe me, I did not appreciate one bit when I tried this years ago."

Tom went on to explain how to cast the spell correctly, and had Harry practice the wand movement several times in front of him.

"Do you think you've got a good handle on the spell?"

"Uhm, I suppose?" Harry replied, asking more than actually answering. "I mean, how do we know if it works or not?"

"I'm already familiar with what the results are like if I'm rejected by the spell. If it's the same as that, we know your casting worked and I'm simply incompatible. If your casting _doesn't_ work, we'll just try again."

"Why don't you go first? Or rather… why don't _I_ go first, and you _cast_ first?"

"You'll be fine, Harry. I trust you."

Harry huffed out a nervous breath and readied his wand. Tom adjusted himself so he was perched in the corner of the couch and in a fairly relaxed position. He evened his breathing. "Alright, Harry. I'm ready."

Harry nodded, aimed his wand and focused on the instructions Tom had given him before. Finally he spoke the incantation, jabbing his wand forward with a tight corkscrew motion and a purple light shot from the tip and straight at Tom. The light engulfed him and Harry watched with mild concern as Tom's eyes slid back into his head and he fell limply against the couch.

The next five minutes were hell as Harry sat there nervously wishing Tom would just wake up. Harry read and re-read the chapter in the book that described the trance a person should enter when the meditations succeeded, as Tom had said that part was the same whether you entered the trance via the spell or the way the book suggested.

A sudden gasp from Tom caused Harry to jump with surprise. Tom sat forward with a sudden jerking motion and panted for a moment as he blinked blearily forward. Finally he seemed to actually be seeing again and he looked over towards Harry.

"Are you alright? Did it work?" Harry asked quickly.

"Yes… I'm fine, and yes it worked," Tom replied nodding his head distractedly. "It worked," He said again, sounding almost surprised.

"So what was it?"

"Hm?"

"You're animal!" Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, it's —" Tom trailed off. "Actually, I won't tell you."

"What!? Why!?"

"I don't want to bias your results. I'm curious as to the likelihood of you having a similar animal."

"I thought you didn't have any control over what your animal was?"

"No conscious control, but there's been no evidence to suggest just _how_ your animal is determined, so honestly, we just don't know. But there are others who believe that the animal you get is directly linked to your _spirit_ , which might suggest a person's _soul_. It could either prove or totally discredit that notion if you and I have the same or different animals."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Fine, don't tell me till after. Now do me!"

Tom chuckled and adjusted himself so he was sitting straighter. "Get comfortable."

Harry nodded and now adjusted himself into his corner of the couch. Tom asked if he was ready and he was. Tom performed the same spell and Harry was engulfed in a purple glow before falling unconscious.

Tom sat skimming a later chapter of the book for the next seven minutes, waiting. Finally Harry jerked, gasped, and woke up. It took Harry a disoriented minute to sort himself back out, but finally he was able to focus clearly on Tom.

"So?" Tom asked when Harry was finally coherent again.

"Huh?

Tom laughed. "You're animal!"

"You first," Harry said, grinning.

Tom rolled his eyes. "Fine. A black panther."

Harry's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. "Whoa."

"So? You?"

"The same. A big black panther."

Tom's brows rose high into his forehead. "Well, that certainly lends some credence to the theory that the animal is connected to a person's soul somehow."

"Yeah, wow. I seriously thought you would have ended up as a giant snake or something."

Tom chuckled. "I rather doubted it, honestly. My teenaged self would have loved that, but it's not usually that obvious. Although your godfather certainly seems to suggest otherwise. A man named after the _Dog Star_ turning into a _dog_ is a _bit_ obvious."

Harry chuckled and shrugged.

"What were you hoping for?" Tom asked.

"I really didn't know. I'm not sure I was _hoping_ for anything. Mostly I was just hoping I _didn't_ turn into a snake. I don't know how I'd explain that to my friends, and Sirius would definitely blow his top."

Tom snorted and rolled his eyes skyward. "Yes, I imagine that wouldn't go over well."

"So… a _panther_.. wow," Harry mused.

"I'm fairly sure it was specifically a melanistic leopard," Tom said thoughtfully.

"What's that mean?"

"Technically there is no single species that is a 'black panther' but rather various feline species that have an excess of melanin so they appear all or partially black. The leopard is generally considered the smallest of the four 'big cat' species - the others being tigers, lions, and jaguars. Jaguars can also be melanistic, so you can also get all-black jaguars which are also often called 'black panthers'. So our form could easily be that instead. I'd have to do some more specific research into the two species to be sure."

"Oh - wow. I didn't realize that. So we're either a leopard or a jaguar? _"_

"Yes, but like I said, I think it was a leopard since it didn't seem quite large or stocky enough to be a jaguar, and the tail seemed longer."

"Yeah, I remember a pretty long tail… Wow. So a big black cat, that's kind of brilliant."

Tom chuckled. "Well, you'll certainly be capable of staying with Lupin during his transformations. A panther should definitely be capable of defending itself against a werewolf."

"Oh yeah! Brilliant! So uh… I don't suppose there's some awesome spell that speeds up the rest of the process, is there?"

Tom snorted. "Nope. The rest will just be focus and practice. Sirius would probably be a lot more help now, actually."

"I can ask him if he'll help us both."

Tom scoffed. "That's quite alright, Harry. I'll manage."

Harry frowned. "Why? Would it really be so bad to get help from Sirius?"

"No, I think you misunderstand, Harry. I merely believe that Black would rather suffer painful boils than help me with _anything_."

"Oh come on, he doesn't hate you _that much_."

"Harry," Tom paused and looked Harry right in the eyes, "yes he does."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You're being over dramatic."

"No, Harry. I'm really not. Sirius Black will only ever see me as —" Tom halted abruptly as a knocking came at the door. It opened a bit and Ron's red head popped through, looking around.

"Hey Harry!" he said excitedly before turning over his shoulder and calling out, "He's in the Drawing Room 'Mione!"

"Coming!" could be very faintly heard from somewhere beyond Ron.

Ron turned back to the room and grinned. Then his eyes landed on Tom, "Oh! Sorry, I didn't even see you there!"

Tom smiled softly. "Good morning Ron," Tom greeted.

Ron entered the room and a moment later Hermione appeared in the hallway beyond and followed him in.

"Good morning," Tom repeated for Hermione.

"Oh, Tom! Good morning! I didn't know you'd be here."

"If that's a problem, I can always leave."

"No," Harry said quickly.

"No, no!" Hermione said at the same time, "Don't be silly!"

She moved across the room and sat in an arm chair angled towards the couch that Harry and Tom presently sat. Ron sat in an other arm chair beside it. Hermione instantly pulled out a folded catalog that she'd been holding and flipped open to one of many of the pages that she'd dog-eared.

"So, Harry, I think I've managed to identify several possible candidates for that book you suggested I go looking for," She began and glanced over towards Tom before glancing back at Harry with a silently questioning look.

"Book?" Harry echoed with obvious confusion.

Hermione slumped a bit with obvious exasperation. "The book that the _girl_ told um… a certain _someone_ to go look up for information about the you-know-whats?"

Harry continued to look at her like she'd lost her mind before a sudden look of dawning shot across his face. "OH! The book about horcruxes, you mean?"

Hermione glanced back at Tom and then back at Harry, once again silently asking with her eyes.

"It's fine, Hermione. Tom knows," Harry said with a chuckle. "I told him everything."

Hermione heaved a sigh, "oh, thank goodness. This would have been really hard to discuss if I'd had to dance around that all day."

Tom chuckled.

Hermione held the catalog up again and held her finger to a point on the page somewhere. "Okay, so the first possible candidate I found is a book called 'A Wizard in Jaya' by Raymond Bedi. It came out about 12 years ago. Does that sound close?"

Harry frowned and shook his head. "Hmm… maybe? Honestly it didn't stick with me all that firmly.

Hermione hummed and flipped to the next dog-eared page. "How about 'From Enga to Oro: the Tribes of Papaua' by Radha Bail?"

"Wait, what is this that you're doing?" Tom asked, cutting in.

"Hermione is trying to find that book that the Welsh Sidhi told Voldemort to look up."

"Harry, I already _found_ it," Tom said.

"Wait, what?" Hermione asked.

"The author is Rilind Bandi, and the book title is 'Those who Defy the Taboo; Necromantic Arts of Old."

Hermione blinked at him blankly for a moment. "Oh."

"Not one of your potentials?" Tom asked with a slight grin.

"Uhm, no. I didn't find that one."

"I'm not surprised. It's banned in the UK," Tom said with a chuckle.

"So how did _you_ find it?" Ron asked.

"I know some book dealers," Tom shrugged. "I've got the book back at my cottage. I could just go get it, if you want to look it over."

Hermione's eyes lit up. "Oh, could you?"

"Sure. It won't take but a few minutes to apparate there and back."

"That would be brilliant! Thank you!"

Tom stood up with a quick pat on Harry's knee. "Be back in a few."

"Alright," Harry said looking up at him mildly surprised. Obviously Harry had known that Tom already had the book, but he hadn't expected Tom to willingly share it with Hermione. Then again, Harry couldn't see any real danger in doing so.

Harry watched as Tom left the room and finally turned back to his friends.

"Did you know he'd already found it?" Hermione asked.

"No," Harry said with a shrug, "Or… well, maybe. I told him about it ages ago and he said he'd go looking for it, but I don't know if he ever mentioned having found it."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and sighed.

"Oh! I've got some news!" Harry said excitedly.

"What news?" Ron asked.

"I found out what my animagus form will be if I manage the transformation!"

"You got the meditations to work?" Hermione asked excitedly.

"Actually, it turns out there's a spell that induces the trance. The book Sirius has just never mentions it. It's in other books though, but I didn't bother looking anywhere else since this was the book Sirius learned from," Harry said, motioning towards the book on the couch beside him.

"So how'd you find out about the spell?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Tom had a different book," Harry said with a simple shrug. "When I mentioned that I couldn't get the meditations to work he looked at me all confused and asked why I didn't just use the spell instead." Harry chuckled.

"So what's your animal?" Ron asked impatiently.

Harry grinned. "A black panther!"

Ron's eyes widened. "Whoa. A panther? That's bloody brilliant!"

"Well, you obviously won't be using _your_ animagus form to spy on people," Hermione said in amusement. "Not much opportunity for sneaking around in secret as some black panther. Especially since they're hardly native to England."

"I'd take a form that would let me rip a Death Eater to shreds, any day, over being a beetle or a _rat_." Ron said with a grimace.

"Well now that you know your form, you can actually start working on learning the transformation, right?" Hermione asked Harry.

"That's right. Hopefully Sirius will be a lot more help on that part. He went through it, so ideally, he'll have some good tips for me. I've got one month to soak up as much as I can from him, before going back to Hogwarts."

Harry paused and bit his lower lip, debating the next part. "Really crazy thing, though —"

"Hmm?" Hermione hummed in question.

"Tom did it too. Finding out his animal?"

"Oh?" Hermione perked up curiously.

"Yeah - he went first, and then I did it. We're _both_ panthers."

Ron's jaw dropped. Hermione's lips parted with obviously surprise.

"Blimey," Ron whispered. "What are the chances of _that?"_

"It's got to be astronomically low," Hermione mused in amazement.

"Can you fake it, or, or… force what animal you get?" Ron asked.

"No, Ron, you can't," Hermione said. "You don't get to pick what your animal will be, and aside from just _lying_ about the vision, I can't see how a person could _fake_ it. Not much point in lying about the vision either, since if you do finally manage the transformation, it'll be obvious it wasn't true."

"He told me that his form was a panther before I told him what mine was," Harry pointed out.

"That's mental," Ron exclaimed. So you two have the same animagus form. So is he going to be trying to learn it too?"

"Yeah, but he'll probably do it on his own until we get to Hogwarts."

"Why not study with you and Sirius?" Hermione asked.

"Er… well, Sirius isn't quite sure what to think of Tom…"

—

Tom climbed the stairs of Grimmauld Place with the Necromancy book in hand. He wasn't sure if he was going to be willing to let Hermione _leave_ with the book, but he saw no problem with letting her read it while they were both here. Honestly, he was a bit curious to see how she'd react to a book whose subject mater was so thoroughly and blatantly _Dark_ in nature. Yet, despite this, it was also a remarkably fascinating branch of magic. One of the really interesting things about Bindi's book was that it didn't overly focus on the more morally objectionable branches.

Plenty of books that focused on dark branches of magic put all of their emphasis into the offensive specialties of that branch and paid little mind to the more morally ambiguous or even positive spells that still fell within that magical branch. They existed, but since, more often than not, the people who went to the trouble of seeking books of this nature, were after the offensive spells, the books focused primarily on that. Bindi's book took a very objective look at a wide scope of the necromantic arts that had been developed by this isolated tribe of wizards, and treated it all as a fascinating educational investigation.

Tom found he really liked the book, actually, but at the same time, he was fairly sure he would have _hated_ the book _before_. In fact, for the brief time he owned it _before_ he reabsorbed the horcrux, he _had_ hated it. —Or at least he'd thought it mostly 'useless'.

Tom reached the top of the first landing and slowly came to a stop as he found himself face to face with Sirius.

"You," Sirius muttered disdainfully.

"Good morning, Black," Tom said as neutrally as possible.

"Why are _you_ here?"

"I'm visiting Harry."

"I'd rather you not," Sirius growled.

Tom sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm here, whether you like it or not."

"Actually, it's my house, so I think I've got every right to kick you out."

"Actually, _it's Harry's house_. You were the one who was so unconcerned with getting it back from him. And so long as it's Harry's house, and Harry wants me here, I see no reason to _leave_."

Sirius took a step closer, nearly nose to nose, and towering slightly over Tom, as he actually had a good 2-3 inches advantage over him.

Tom's lip curled. The decrease in height was one of the few things he found he really disliked about his new body.

"I don't like you being here," Sirius said, clearly trying to be intimidating.

"You are the most ridiculously ungrateful bastard alive," Ton spat. "And seeing as how the only reason you are _alive_ is because of _me_ , you'd think you'd at least attempt a bit more civility."

"And I'm supposed to bow down and kiss you arse then?"

"If you didn't want to come back, you could have _stayed dead_. Saved me the headache of having to _deal with you_."

"You'd have liked that, wouldn't you? No one to actually protect Harry from _you_."

Tom let out an aggravated groan. "You are so ridiculously pig headed. _I_ am not the danger to Harry! I'm _protecting him!_ The man he really needs protecting from is bloody Dumbledore! As I recall, _that_ was the reason you agreed to come back!"

"I agreed to come back because Harry needed someone to protect him from _both of you_."

"Harry doesn't seem to agree with that sentiment. He seems quite pleased with my continued presence. He didn't have to invite me over. I'm not forcing him to do _anything_."

"So you say," Sirius spat.

"Black you're absurd. We both know that Harry can throw off the bloody imperius curse! I couldn't force him to do any of this even if I wanted to!"

"There are other ways to control a person."

"And none of them are as powerful as the Imperius!" Tom exclaimed. "Your stubbornness is obscene!"

"I don't trust you," Sirius growled, leaning in threateningly again.

"And I don't like you. But we both care about Harry, and that actually _means_ something to me. I didn't have to bring you back, Black. I didn't _want_ to bring you back. But Harry _needed_ you, and there is nothing in this world that is more important to me than him. So I did it. And now I get to enjoy your wonderful presence. Yip-de-do-dah-day. _Lucky me_."

"I don't buy your act," Sirius said, shaking his head and finally taking a step back.

"It's not a bloody act!" Tom exclaimed, exasperated. "You are such a bloody —" Tom's voice trailed off suddenly and his eyes seemed to unfocused for a moment before he closed them slowly and sighed. "Shit."

"What?" Sirius asked, guarded.

"Mr. Lupin," Tom called out down the hall. Sirius turned and looked behind him, just as Remus stepped out from a partially open doorway behind him. "Hello," Tom said in a tired greeting. "I hope your night wasn't too rough."

Remus gave him a weak smile and a small nod. "I've certainly had worse."

"How much of that did you hear?" Tom asked casually.

"All of it, I believe," Remus replied just as easily.

"Ah. That's what I feared," Tom said as he reached up and ran a tired hand through his hair.

"Remus —" Sirius began, but Remus held his hand up.

"Just tell me what he meant when he said he brought you back," Remus said.

Sirius' jaw floundered for a moment.

Tom held up the book in his hand so Remus could see the cover. "I summoned him. I… well, what can I say - obscure and taboo branches of magic fascinate me. Anything from the inner arts of magical paintings, to the forbidden secrets of Necromancy. It's all fair game as far as I'm concerned. I'd never really applied the knowledge before, but when Harry told me about the veiled archway in the Ministry I thought… well, I thought I could help him."

Remus' lips parted and he looked almost accusingly at Sirius. "You were under veritaserum! You said —"

"I gave him a potion that gave him a temporary immunity to truth serum," Tom said. "We didn't think that the idea of him having been brought back through Necromancy would go over too well with the Order."

Remus heaved a bodily sigh and shook his head. "Oh Sirius… you could have just _told me_."

Sirius ran an agitated hand through his long wavy hair and scratched the back of his head nervously. "I… just didn't really know how, I guess," he grumbled.

"What was all that before about you having a choice to come back?" Remus asked Sirius, who once again floundered.

"Harry and I summoned Sirius' soul to my cottage a few times so they could talk," Tom said. "It was after the second visit that Harry asked me if there was any way…" Tom trailed off and shrugged. "I wasn't even sure it would work, but I promised him that I would try. But I also told him it would only work if Sirius was willing, so we summoned his soul _again_ and got his permission to try."

Remus aimed his question at Tom, this time, "Why does he seem to hate you so much?"

"I'm a _Necromancer_. Why do _you_ think?" Tom said with a sarcastic tone. "Magic is magic. I don't discriminate one branch from another. He's probably afraid I'll be a bad influence or something. Or he's convinced I'm really a Death Eater in hiding just trying to sneak my way to the inside and do insidious things. I'm obviously going to corrupt Harry and turn him away from his friends and family and draw him into the _dark side_."

Remus sighed and turned back to Sirius who was glaring at Tom.

"Sirius, leave the kid alone," Remus said tiredly.

"Hey, it's not that simple!" Sirius shot back defensively.

"Sirius," Remus said again, more stern this time. Sirius grumbled and huffed before throwing his arms up in exasperation.

"Fine!" he yelled pushing past Tom with more force than was necessary and storming down the stairs.

Tom rolled his eyes skyward and shook his head. Finally he made to walk forward, heading towards the Drawing Room. Remus stopped him with a gentle hand on his shoulder, drawing Tom's guarded gaze.

"One thing I don't understand — why would both of you feel the need to protect Harry from _Dumbledore?"_ Remus asked.

Tom's expression clouded. "You need to ask Harry that. It's more than I could properly explain right now, anyway."

Remus frowned deeply with concern. "Alright. I'll do that."

Tom nodded slightly and made to walk past him, but Remus gently halted him again.

"About Sirius… he may not be grateful… but I am. And I know Harry is," Remus said gently. "Thank you for bringing him back. _Especially_ considering how much of a prat he is."

Tom let out a quiet snort and shrugged before finally pushing past and making his way towards the Drawing Room.

— —


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Harry looked up as the door opened and smiled as Tom entered the room, closing the door behind him. Harry's smile faltered slightly as the brooding look on Tom's face.

"Is something up?" Harry whispered to Tom as he sat beside him.

"You're going to have to speak with Remus later," Tom said quietly to Harry as he shifted on the couch.

"About what?"

"Sirius stopped me on my way back and we got into a bit of an argument. Things were said that were best not overheard, but Remus apparently overheard them."

Harry's eyes widened. "Like what?" he whispered back.

"I managed to recover from most of it, so we're not in any real trouble. But you'll need to tell Remus about Dumbledore. I'll fill you in on the details later."

Harry nodded slowly as Tom turned back towards the rest of the room. Hermione was sitting cross-legged in the armchair she'd perched in earlier with the animagus book in her lap while Ron was a short distance away setting up a chess board on a table against one wall by the tapestry, but his attention was back on the grouping of chairs in the center of the room.

"Erm, oh! Right! We were talking while you were gone, and Ron and Hermione want to give the animagus spell a shot too."

"Oh yeah?" Tom asked with mild interest as he settled into the couch better and tossed the necromancy book on the table. Hermione's gaze was instantly drawn to it and she scurried out from her perch, abandoning the animagus book in favor of the necromancy book.

"You're sure this is the book that the sidhe told You-Know-Who to find?" she asked, picking the book up and taking it back to her seat.

"Unquestionably. Unless, of course, there were multiple books published around that time that detail the creation of a horcrux."

Her eyes widened at him for a moment before instantly going back down to the book. She began flipping through it.

"Splitting, moving, recombining, and healing souls is detailed in chapters eight, and nine. Horcurxes, specifically, are covered in chapter fifteen, along with a mountain of warnings detailing why they're a bad idea," Tom explained.

Hermione was flipping further into the book when she paused on one page, visibly cringed, and said, "Oh my!" before quickly flipping several pages further.

Tom chuckled.

Ron finally came back over and looked over Hermione's shoulder. "So what exactly is the deal with this book?"

"Hopefully, it'll help us better understand Harry's connection to You-Know-Who's soul, and how You-Know-Who has supposedly made himself immortal."

"So… maybe we'll figure out a way to destroy You-Know-Who without Harry having to die?" Ron asked, hopefully.

Harry gave a quick sideways glance at Tom, but Tom's expression didn't betray anything he might be thinking or feeling.

"From what I've come to understand, it appears that _any_ piece of human soul that manages to form a permanent attachment to living body can become sentient _and_ independent," Tom said with interest. "But it's a very rare phenomenon for a single soul to actually split into two parts that are both strong enough to do this. You don't usually get pieces of soul large enough to hold a binding to a physical body, and they can't grow larger until they've already formed this attachment. A soul has to be stable in a body before it can begin to grow on it's own.

"The body also has to be empty for the soul to attach to it, and bodies without souls don't usually survive for long without specific intervention. If a body already has a soul in it, the invading soul would have to fight for control of the body, and it's rare that the invading-soul would be stronger than the soul already there. The two souls could theoretically co-exist in one body at the same time, but the weaker would eventually be evicted, or the body would just die. It's all really quite fascinating. The Papuan tribes have really gotten it down to a well-honed fully fledged magical branch. They've been exploring soul magic for centuries and never developed a taboo around it."

Ron made a face. "What could they be _doing_ so much that let them figure all this soul stuff out?"

"Every generation had a small number of individuals chosen to carry on the tribes history. They don't write things down, their history and magic is all passed down orally. When a person is chosen, they do a ritual procedure much like a horcrux, but a far more refined and safer version that they've perfected over the years. It grants a much extended lifespan, though it is not truly immortality since if it went on much longer than they do, the individual's souls would begin to deteriorate. After two more generations have done this as well, the elders from the oldest generation reabsorb their soul 'anchor' to become mortal again, and they then become the sacrifices for the newest generation's immortality rituals."

"Sacrifices?" Ron echoed, clearly rather horrified.

"Only the death of another human can split the soul in the way needed to create a soul anchor," Tom said factually. "The key in this is that the sacrifices for the ritual have already lived three times a normal man's life. It's certainly more humane than taking sacrifices from the tribe in some other fashion."

"Still seems insane to me," Ron muttered, shaking his head.

"It's a different culture, Ron," Hermione argued. "We hardly have the right to make judgements about an isolated group of tribal wizards from an island half-way across the world. Every culture has it's own oddities. As someone coming from the muggle world into the British wizarding world, I certainly saw a fair share of _cultural_ things here that seemed to make absolutely no sense to me, but it's hardly for me to suggest that someone else's culture is completely _wrong_."

"Er… House elves?" Harry pointed out hesitantly.

Hermione's face went red, and rather cross and she glared at Harry, who held his hands up defensively.

"I'm just saying," Harry said.

Hermione huffed out a breath along with a slight growl before folding her arms across her chest. "Alright, maybe I'm being a bit hypocritical, but the point still stands. In these people's case, they're an indigenous tribe from an isolated island country. It's expected that they would have a vastly different culture than us. _Wizards_ in Britain are still _Brits_ and I would expect some level of common ground that we could agree on. _Like basic human rights._ Or, basic rights to _any_ sentient and intelligent living being. House elves are intelligent and powerful, and should have every right available to them that a wizard does. _Slavery_ is something I would expect our society to have moved on from by this point."

Tom gave her a bemused look. "So you're saying that the House Elves should all be freed from their bonds?"

"Yes! They should be free to work whatever job they want, and they should get _paid_ for their work. And they should be protected from abuse!"

"Well, I certainly won't argue that there are some wizards who are out of line with their treatment of their elves, but you do realize, don't you, that if you freed all the house elves, a vast majority of them wouldn't survive it."

Hermione blinked in a moment of confusion. "Why on earth would you say _that?_ Are you suggesting that people would —"

"No, their _bonds_ ," Tom corrected, quickly. "They feed off the magic of the family they serve to survive. It's an agreement that their race made with wizards thousands of years ago to save themselves. They were all dying off from… some thing. I don't remember, it's been ages since I read about it. I think it was some sort of hereditary degeneration. Their magic was eating them alive, so they had to choose to either go without magic all together, and slowly fade away, or continue to use magic but do so using a wizards power as stabilizer and energy source. They entered into bonds with certain wizarding families to save themselves. Some elves didn't want to enslave themselves to anyone and opted to die out, or stop using magic, which in turn, led to them eventually dying out. All we have left are the descendants of those who chose to bind themselves to wizards. "

"I've never heard of anything like that," Hermione said, shaking her head and frowning. "Where did you hear that?"

"Read it," Tom said, shrugging. "I've seen it glossed over in a few texts, and came across one book a long while ago that actually detailed the lore. Still, it's been long enough that I don't honestly remember which books specifically I saw it in. I don't imagine it would be too difficult to track down, though."

Harry frowned deeply. "Does that mean that an elf that's been freed is going to end up dead?" he asked, worriedly.

Tom shrugged. "Probably. It could take a while, though. If it's been bonded to a wizard for a sizable amount of time, their magic will probably remain stable for a while to come. And of course, they could always bond to a new master."

"What if they get a job instead of getting a new master?" Harry asked.

"Well… where's the job?" Tom asked.

"Hogwarts."

"Oh, you're talking about Malfoy's elf, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said, nodding. "Dobby."

"Well, if he's living in Hogwarts, he'll be fine. It's right on a ley line, and the school is saturated in so much ambient magic, it's more than sufficient to stabilize an elf's magic."

Harry sighed and smiled thankfully. "Well, that's a relief."

"Well, in any case, I'll be looking that stuff about elves up," Hermione said, still looking rather critical of the idea. "But for now I suppose we ought to just focus on this," she motioned down to the book in her lap.

"So what are you looking for, specifically? I've read through the whole thing and could probably point you in the right direction," Tom asked.

"Well, I don't know, exactly. Was there anything that looked like it might be useful for Harry? I mean, I don't suppose there's any chance that a soul split into multiple pieces can be split apart permanently? Can part of it be destroyed without all of it needing to be destroyed?"

Tom shook his head. "As far as I can tell, _no_."

Hermione huffed out a disappointed breath. "Well, I'll look through it anyway. —See if anything gives me any ideas. Maybe… maybe there's a way to seal away the part that's just Voldemort. Lock _his_ part of the soul into something like a horcrux. It wouldn't be a long-term guarantee, but it could at least allow Harry to live out his life. It's not like Azkaban could keep You-Know-Who locked up anyway."

"No, it certainly couldn't," Tom agreed with a tiny smirk turning up the corner of his mouth.

"Honestly, Hermione, you don't have to do this," Harry said uncomfortably. "I don't want you to be super-worried about this. You don't have to —"

"Harry, don't be ridiculous," Hermione said, exasperated. "Obviously, this is something we'll need to address eventually. It's better to start planning as early as possible.

"Well, that's all interesting," Ron cut in, sounding entirely bored, "but I was hoping we could maybe take a crack at that animagus spell, while we're still here."

Hermione rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest but shrugged in acquiescence.

Tom went on to detail the spell to both Ron and Hermione, demonstrating how it was performed and how to pronounce the incantation. However, in the end, Ron wasn't confident enough to attempt it himself, and Hermione was still too insistent that they weren't supposed to be performing magic during the summer, so Harry cast the spell on Ron, and Tom performed it on Hermione. Both were able to see their animals, much to Harry's relief, as he was sure that if either of them had ended up being incompatible, it would have caused a bit of a rift. Ron would have been disappointed and jealous, and Hermione would have been frustrated that there was something she couldn't do, no matter how hard she tried.

Harry had sat with anxious anticipation as each of his friends had sat on the couch in a trance. When they each came out, they had excitedly proclaimed what their animal forms.

"An otter! Just like my patronus!" Hermione had exclaimed excitedly.

Ron then looked rather puzzled and attention focused on him. "A racoon," he said with a shrug.

"So, not the same as your patronus," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"My form didn't turn out to be a stag," Harry said, shrugging.

"A person's patronus can change due to external events in their lives," Tom pointed out. "But a person's animagus form is set in stone and most likely determined from birth. But there is a high correlation of people who can become an animagus, having their patronus be the same. I suspect that a person's patronus would naturally be the same as their animagus form, but outward stimulus can cause the patronus to be something different. Ron's patronus would probably have naturally been a raccoon, but something in his life resulted in it changing to something else. What is your patronus, if you don't mind me asking?"

"A dog," Ron said with a shrug.

"A jack russell terrier, to be specific," Hermione added.

"A small, energetic, hunting dog," Tom mused before shrugging. "Perhaps your chasing after something. Jack Russells are very loyal dogs as well. Of course, you could say that for most dogs."

Ron twisted up his mouth but ended up just shrugging helplessly.

"So we've got an otter, a racoon, and two _panthers_. Not a lot of compatibility on size…" Hermione said.

Harry chuckled, "yeah, well at least you two have a better chance of blending in. Not a lot of otters inland, but a small brown mammal doesn't stick out too badly, and a raccoon… well, they're not actually native to the U.K. at all, but it's small enough to maybe slip someone's notice."

Ron laughed, "Yeah, I don't think you're going to be doing any sneaking around the castle as a bloody _panther_."

"Well, I for one, am not going to try and learn to become an animagus for the sake of _espionage_ ," Hermione said with a tinge of exasperation.

"Whut?" Ron said.

Hermione huffed out a frustrated breath. " _Spying_."

"Oh, right."

The group talked for about another twenty minutes before Remus poked his head in, asking if anyone was hungry. They went to the kitchen, where Sirius was was already at the stove, mixing up what looked like an omelet.

Harry laughed at him and remarked that breakfast was hours ago, to which Sirius tiredly grumbled out something about this being _his_ breakfast, and unless Harry wanted to make his own food, he'd eat what he got. Tom actually offered to cook, but Sirius just glared at him in response before going back to making food.

Conversation was a bit awkward at first, but things slipped into a more comfortable atmosphere quickly enough. The discussion of Harry's birthday party came up, and the decision to have it at the Burrow was finalized.

Tom stayed at Grimmauld Place for another two hours before leaving with the excuse to the others that he had a potion he needed to go back to, and the reason to Harry being so he would have more time with his friends.

Tom visited again that night. They snogged for a while, and ended up laying in Harry's bed, listening to occasional wolf howls, and talking aimlessly about their pasts. Harry fell asleep first and Tom set a timer to wake him at sunrise when he knew Remus' transformation would end.

Tom did go back to his own home for a while, but returned to Grimmauld Place later in the afternoon. Ron and Hermione were already there, and they, along with Harry and Sirius, were in the Drawing Room, with Sirius explaining the first steps to learning to transform into your animagus form, when Tom arrived.

Sirius was clearly less than thrilled with Tom's presence, but a glare of Harry seemed enough to keep him quiet.

Tom kept his distance, sitting across the room, reading an animagus manual of his own, while the other three sat around Sirius and listened.

By evening, Ron and Hermione called it quits, not having made any real progress, and bid Harry and Sirius goodbye for the day heading back to the Burrow. Sirius gave Tom another glare, and made some passive aggressive remarks making it rather clear he'd like Tom _gone_ now, and left the Drawing Room.

"Did you make any progress?" Tom asked, coming over to join Harry again. He'd joined him a few times over the course of the afternoon, but mostly kept his distance from Sirius.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. "No, but I really didn't expect to. Not this early on."

Tom smirked, brought up his hand, focused on it intently, and Harry watched with real surprise as Tom's finger tips bent and changed, growing large and rather intimidating claws out the tips, and developing the early signs of a padded bottom and palm.

"You've got to be kidding!" Harry exclaimed with a laugh. "Is there anything that you're not unreasonably good at?"

Tom grinned and chuckled. "I _did_ practice a bit yesterday, so I cheated a little."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yesterday evening, and a few hours this afternoon, and you're already doing _that_."

"I bet you could do it too," Tom said with a confident smirk.

"Uh, what do you think I was trying for the last few hours?"

"Sirius' explanation is rubbish," Tom said dismissively, turning more so he could more directly face Harry. "I understand what he's trying to say, he's just awful at actually saying it. Here, think of it this way —" Tom went on to detail some visualization methods that he used that, quite honestly, _did_ make a lot more sense to Harry. At the same time, Harry wondered if it would make the same amount of sense if Tom were to say it to Ron or Hermione.

Some of the things he described to Harry were those strange little inner quirks Harry associated with the way his magic _felt_ when he did certain sorts of spells. Like saying that a certain type of focusing felt _blue_. It made perfect sense to Harry when Tom said it, because it _felt blue_ to him… but he rather doubted that would make even a lick of sense to anyone _else_.

Tom grinned widely as he watched Harry start to form a thick dark pad along his palm and bottom of his fingers, about an hour later.

"It's ridiculously easy to explain things to you," Tom remarked with a chuckle. "I don't have to try and work out a way to have it make sense to _normal_ people."

"Hey, I'm normal enough," Harry objected, jokingly.

Tom laughed. "You're anything but _normal_. And that's a good thing. Normal is boring and monumentally over-rated."

"The Dursley's were always obsessed with _normal_ ," Harry mused with an air of derision.

"All the more reason to aspire to be much greater than _normal_."

Harry grinned up at him. "Yeah."

"Now, can you turn your hand _back?"_ Tom asked, nodding down at Harry's partially transformed hand.

"Er, right," Harry said, focusing on it again and frowning for several moments before his hand started going back to normal and Harry let out a sigh. "That's so _weird_."

"Yes, it feels quite remarkably odd. Just wait until you get to the claw. Having the third bone in each finger bend back nearly 90 degrees and grow a giant protruding claw out the top-side is considerably _more odd_ than growing palm pads."

Harry's eyes widened. "Uh… what?"

Tom chuckled. "Ah, you're probably not very familiar with feline physiology, are you? I'm going to track down an animal anatomy book tomorrow and bring it. Familiarity with the skeletal system will probably help us both with proceeding further with the transformation."

Tom left a short while later, asking if he could come by again that night, and getting a sheepish but also quite pleased agreement from Harry.

Harry lay in bed later that night, after Remus and Sirius had gone down to the cellar, but before Tom came back for a mid-night visit, and couldn't help but wonder what Remus and Sirius were doing down in the cellar. He wished he could spend time with them, while they did this. Remus had no choice, obviously, and Sirius was his support during a difficult and trying monthly experience. Harry realized he didn't entirely know what Wolfsbane did to help Remus' mental faculties, but as he understood it, it helped him keep his mind in tact, to some extent, while transformed. It was something Harry hadn't thought on much before, but found he was really curious about now.

He asked Tom about it, later that night, when he came over. Tom detailed all he knew about werewolfs, their transformations, Wolfsbane and it's effects, and even what he knew about brewing it, but said Harry would probably get a better description of it, if he just asked Remus himself.

Once again Tom spent the night, but left at sunrise. It was mid-afternoon before he came back, and as he'd promised, he had acquired a book that detailed various mammalian anatomy. Not only did it have several pages dedicated to various types of cats, but also a wide range of other mammals, which fortunately, included otters and racoons, so the book was helpful for Ron and Hermione as well.

Harry had showed Ron and Hermione his paw pads when they'd arrived shortly before lunch, and both had been decidedly stunned. Harry tried to explain to Ron and Hermione what he was doing differently now that was working so much better, but his explanation didn't seem to make nearly as much sense to them, as it did to himself.

They'd already been together, and periodically practicing for several hours before Tom arrived. After quite a bit of prodding from Harry, Tom made an effort to explain he and Harry's progress, to Ron and Hermione, but once again it was clear that it wasn't nearly as simple to get it across to them as it had been to Harry. Despite this, he did make more progress in explaining things than Harry had, and by the time Ron and Hermione left for dinner, they'd both managed at least minimal bits of their transformations.

"So, um… will I see you again tonight?" Harry asked Tom, later that evening, when he was preparing to leave.

Tom frowned thoughtfully. "I… hadn't entirely planned on it. Remus' transformation cycle is complete."

"Wait, so the only reason you were sneaking into my room these last three nights, was to protect me from _Remus?"_ Harry asked frowning slightly.

Tom grinned and chuckled, shaking his head. "I most certainly had plenty of other reasons that I wanted to sneak into your room. Remus' transformation was the _excuse_ I used to justify the action, to myself. Plus, he and Sirius being down in the cellar made it a lot simpler and safer to sneak in unnoticed. Now they'll each be in their own bedrooms, and while they may not be on the same floor as your room, Remus, at the very least, is in the room directly _above_ yours, and floors tend to be thinner than walls."

"You use that silencing ward," Harry argued. "Are you going to tell me that _you_ couldn't sneak into my room without anyone noticing?"

Tom gave a conceding tilt of his head and shoulders. "Alright, fine, I probably could. It's still a risk that we don't have to take. I can already tell that you're not sleeping as much as you should. I'm keeping you up at night. I'd be more than willing to keep coming from time to time…"

"Just not tonight?" Harry said flatly.

Tom sighed and chuckled. "Alright. Fine. Tonight. But I won't be staying the whole night, alright?"

Harry grinned. "Alright."

—

That night, at 11:50pm, Tom appeared at Harry's window. It was only the lightest of tapping sounds that notified Harry of his presence, and when Tom opened the window and stepped inside, it was in utter silence. The first thing he did upon setting foot in Harry's room, was wave his wand in the now very familiar motion of his silencing ward, and then close the window.

"Still awake, I see?" Tom said with a chuckle.

"Don't think I waited up for you," Harry said playfully, "I always stay up to midnight on my birthday."

"Really? Well then I guess it's good that I came when I did." Tom moved across the room and joined Harry, sitting next to him on the bed.

"Sixteen…" Tom mused softly. "It's honestly somewhat mortifying to think that you're turning sixteen tonight."

"Mortifying?" Harry echoed, bewildered.

"Well, it means that you're _currently_ fifteen."

"For like, five more minutes," Harry argued, rolling his eyes.

Tom chuckled weakly and shook his head. "Yes, and you've _been_ fifteen for the last month… hell, even sixteen is too young. Good gods, I'm a bloody pedophile."

"Tom!" Harry exclaimed, with a mix of incredulity and frustration. "You are not a _pedophile_."

"Harry, I'm seventy, and you're fifteen. I think that basically defines the word without any room for argument."

"If you're seventy, _I'm_ seventy. That less-than-one percent of your soul that existed in Voldemort for the full seventy-some-odd years is basically the same size as the less-than-one percent of _my_ soul that existed in him for about that long, too. The _rest_ of your soul existed in a living body anywhere from sixteen to twenty years, then went into stasis. A solid _half_ of your soul is sixteen years old, just like the rest of _my_ soul that grew out of the bit from Voldemort, and has existed for the last sixteen years in _my_ body. I'd say we're close-enough to even, so shut up about it."

Tom stared at Harry for a stunned moment before laughing and shaking his head with a sigh. "Fascinating logic, you've got going there, Harry. I could certainly poke some holes in it, but I suppose there's not much point at the moment."

"There's _never_ any point. Let it go. It doesn't matter."

"I'm sure there are some that would disagree with you there. Your godfather, for one."

"I think Sirius would object to _us_ without any consideration for some theoretical age gap."

"There's nothing theoretical about it."

" _Tom!_ "

Tom chuckled and shrugged. "Fine, fine."

Harry sighed and scooted back further on his bed until his back was pressed against the wall. "I really wish there was some way to convince Sirius that _this_ isn't a bad thing."

"' _This'_ as in, our rather unconventional relationship? Short of using the Imperius or a memory charm, I don't think that's possible," Tom said flatly. "I don't think its possible for _anyone_ who knows the whole truth of just who I am, and our history and connection to each other, to see this as anything but bizarre."

"Oh come on, it's not _that_ bad!"

"On one end, we share a soul, so arguably, we're two halves of the same person. You, yourself, referred to it as some sort of bizarre form of masterbation."

Harry laughed. "Don't you try to use that against me!"

"If we go from the soul-angle, it can be argued, as you just have, that the physical age difference is inconsequential. However, if we _do_ take physical ages into consideration, that opens up a whole other can of worms. My body, as it is right now, is either just over one year old, since it didn't really exist before last spring —"

"Well, in _that_ case, _I'd_ be the pedophile," Harry interjected, sarcastically.

Tom rolled his eyes and continued, "— or you could say that it's physically around the age of sixteen or seventeen, because that's the age that it's been transformed to due to… whatever the hell happened after I started absorbing the horcruxes. In that scenario, then, sure, our age difference is again, inconsequential."

"That's what I was saying!"

Tom held up his hand, "However, the _real_ reason that people take issue against a significant difference in age between a grown adult and a teenager, is not physical differences, it's the difference in _mental_ maturity. The older person simply has a much greater well of knowledge and experience. The younger person in the relationship is at a disadvantage. They cannot be true equals, and equality is needed for a healthy, balanced relationship. The idea is that the older, more experienced, person, can too easily take advantage of the younger, inexperienced partner."

Harry gave Tom a flat, unimpressed glare, before smirking. "I would argue that your emotional maturity is hardly that of a grown adult right now."

Tom chuckled and shrugged. "I have my moments…"

"I thought we _weren't_ going to argue about this?

"Yes, your right. I concede," Tom raised his hands in defeat, "I'm only really arguing the point because its my tendency to do just that, with myself, every bloody night. It's not actually an argument I want to win. Selfishness is still a prominent part of my personality, and I have no desire to give you up just because it might be the moral thing to do."

"You are not _selfish_ ," Harry said, rolling his eyes and prodding Tom in the shoulder playfully.

"Oh really?"

"If you were _selfish,_ not only would you _not_ have brought Sirius back, after you _did_ bring him back, you wouldn't have let him keep his memories. You've done all of that for _me_ , not for you."

"Ah, but you _are_ me."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "You're bloody ridiculous!"

Tom chuckled, mostly spurred on by Harry's reaction, and his shoulders shook with his own amusement, while his hand lightly blocked his mouth. His _giggles_ subsided and he turned his wrist and looked down at it, his eyes drawn to his watch.

"Ah! Fifteen seconds!"

"Huh?"

"Midnight."

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed, checking his own watch.

"Ten, nine, eight —" Tom began.

"Seven, six," Harry joined, "five, four, three, two, one," they finished together.

Tom grinned over at Harry. "Happy birthday, Harry."

Harry smiled back, sheepishly. "Thanks."

Tom leaned over, one hand coming and cupping the side of Harry's face, and bringing their lips together.

Tom pulled back the tiniest bit after a moment, their faces still so close together that their noses brushes against each other. "To hell with other people's morality. I'm not giving this up," he whispered, his breath brushing against Harry's lips.

Harry pushed forward, bringing their lips back together and pulling Tom in with his own arms, now wrapped around Tom's neck and side.

Tom moaned in approval, letting Harry push him down onto the bed and straddle his hips.

"It's my birthday, so I get what I want, right?" Harry said, grinning down at Tom, now laying beneath him.

"Anything," Tom breathed back.

— —

Green flames flared to life in the large hearth in the Burrow's main sitting room and spinning in them appeared a figure. It came to a stop a moment later revealing Tom to those standing just beyond the Floo.

Remus had come through first, followed by Harry and now Tom. As soon as Tom had stepped out and to the side, the green flames came to life again and Sirius appeared spinning in the hearth before coming to a stop and stepping out himself. Remus left the group, carrying a small pile of presents and heading towards the kitchen to drop them off. Harry was still sputtering and coughing, despite having come through several moments earlier, and Tom looked over and grinned fondly at the mess of dust and ash in Harry's hair.

"You haven't had a lot of practice with using the Floo, have you?" Tom asked, grinning as he reached up and brushed some of the ash off of Harry's shoulders.

Harry gave him a playful glare as another cough forced its way from his lips and he reached up, brushing some soot from his eyebrows.

"Here, let me," Tom said, pulling his wand out and raising it. Movement flashed from the side and Tom jerked his arm away just as a hand reached out to grab it. Sirius was glaring daggers at him with his arm extended now mid-air, where Tom's arm had been an instant earlier.

"Sirius," Harry said warningly.

"He was going to cast a spell at you!" Sirius said defensively.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Great Merlin, Sirius, calm down."

Tom glared right back at Sirius, holding his stare as he moved his wand into his left hand and gave a bored little wave with his right hand, towards Harry. A wind seemed to blow around Harry, gathering all the soot and ash and blowing it away.

Sirius' eyes widened marginally, but the glare only increased an instant later.

Harry growled out a frustrated breath, reached up and grabbed Tom's hand, pulling him away from Sirius and towards the kitchen.

"Hey! It's the birthday boy!" the twins chimed at the same time as Harry entered and was greeted with the sight of his friends.

"Happy birthday!" several said all at once.

"Luna! Neville! I didn't know you'd be here!" Harry exclaimed, happily.

"I can leave if you'd like," Luna said in a calm tone.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Harry laughed, shaking his head. "I'm glad you came. Thank you, you guys. Seriously, this is fantastic."

"That's very nice of you to say," Luna said, tilting her head slightly to the side and giving him a serene smile. "So whose this?" she asked then, looking curiously at Tom.

"Oh, right! Uhm, Neville, Luna, this is Thomlyn, though you can just call him Tom. He's… he's my boyfriend." Harry's hand went to the center of Tom's back and pushed him forward a small bit, presenting him in a way.

Tom raised his eyebrows as he looked at Harry, an air of surprise in his face, before he smiled politely and gave a small nod towards Luna and Neville.

Neville's eyes widened quite a lot and his lips parted with obvious surprise. Luna's expression gave no indication of any surprise and instead she simply smiled back to Tom. "It's nice to meet you Tom. You're much prettier than Cho."

"Luna!" Hermione exclaimed.

Tom chuckled. "Thank you Luna. It's nice to know I surpass the attractive qualities of my predecessor. Though I suspect most blokes would choose the pretty asian girl over me."

"But apparently not Harry," Luna said, still smiling.

Tom's grin widened. "Fortunately so."

Harry was flushed scarlet. "Right… er…"

Neville, having apparently gotten over his initial surprise, gave Harry a look that spoke volumes for his pity over Harry's obvious discomfort.

"So, Tom will be coming to Hogwarts next year," Harry said, having apparently found a sufficiently different topic.

"Oh yeah?" Neville asked. "We don't get many transfer students," he said in Tom's direction.

"The Headmaster talked me into it. I suppose he preferred the idea of being able to keep an eye on Harry and I within Hogwarts, rather than risk Harry sneaking out of the castle to visit me at random, unpredictable, intervals."

"Where did you go to school before this?" Luna asked.

"Self-taught. I took my OWL exams at the Ministry last summer, so I've got the qualifications to take NEWT level courses, even though I've got no official school records."

"Self-taught?" Neville echoed in astonishment. He opened his mouth, apparently about to say something else, but his eyes trailed up and to a point somewhere behind Harry and Tom, and his mouth dropped open.

Harry turned and looked over his shoulder, to see Sirius poking his head around the entryway to the kitchen, looking in cautiously.

"He really _is_ alive," Neville whispered.

"Is this your godfather?" Luna asked, again, giving no indication of any surprise or disbelief.

Harry looked back at her and smiled. "Yeah, this is Sirius."

Sirius took this as permission, and stepped further into the kitchen.

"Ah, so you did decide to come," Molly Weasley's voice could be heard from the other side of the kitchen, where she was bustling about one counter, putting together the finishing touches on whatever lunch she had prepared for the day.

"Was there any doubt?" Sirius replied with mild incredulity. "It's my godson's sixteenth birthday. I came all the way back from the dead! I wouldn't miss this for the world." He turned his attention back on the group of teenagers and Harry. "So this must be Neville and Luna, right? I think I vaguely remember seeing the two of you at the Ministry. It was a bit of a madhouse that night though, and then I went and died, so, apologies for not greeting you then."

"Uh, yeah," Neville said, still looking rather dumbfounded by Sirius' very existence.

—

The group laughed and chatted. They played a few party games and Molly Weasley served up a delicious home made cake and a simple lunch for everyone. In addition to Harry's school friends, Remus, Sirius, and Molly Weasley were also in attendance. Molly apologized to Harry from Arthur, saying he wished Harry a happy birthday, but had to be at the Ministry. Tom kept his distance a bit at first, but after some prodding from the others, he actually managed to get engaged with the group, and it looked to Harry that he was honestly enjoying himself.

When it came time to open gifts, Harry opened Tom's first. It was a fairly sizable package, so Harry honestly had no idea what it might be. Upon opening it, he discovered a large leather satchel, with little snitches tooled into the leather along the trim of the top flap.

"It's beautiful," Harry said, looking it over with an air of surprise and wonder.

"I've always loved the smell and feel of leather," Tom said softly. "I noticed your book bag was on the verge of falling apart. I figured it was probably another hand-me-down from your cousin. You never get yourself nice things, and I wanted to get you something practical," he shrugged. "I hope you like it."

Harry smiled widely up at him. "I love it."

"It's got a few charms on it. A featherlight charm will guarantee that it won't weigh more than two pounds, no matter how many things you cram inside, and it's got an expansion charm on the interior." Tom reached over and flipped open the top flap and pulled it open wide. He reached to what looked like a single divider, flattened against the backside of the bag and pulled it out. It revealed a full sized pocket and another divider beyond it, which he pulled back, revealing yet _another_ pocket. "Loads of space, but it's separated nicely, so you can keep it organized, rather than just having a bottomless bag to loose your things inside. Oh, and here," he let the main bag close and went to a pocket on the outer front of the bag. It was held shut with a single belt that he quickly undid and pulled it open, "this one is charmed against liquids, and is also space expanded. You can keep your ink bottles in here and not worry about getting ink all over your things if any should break. Which they shouldn't, because the whole bag is charmed shock-proof."

"Brilliant," Harry said with an amazed laugh.

"It's a beautiful bag, Thomlyn," Molly Weasley said warmly. "So thoughtful!"

"Must have been quite an investment," Fred said with a look of wonder on his face, as he eyed it.

"That's a really complex array of charms to weave together. Keeping them from interacting poorly is hard enough that no one would do that for less than thirteen galleons, I'd wager."

"Actually, I did the enchanting myself," Tom said with a shrug. "The bag is actually muggle-made, and I added the snitches to it."

"Really?" Harry asked, his face wide with wonder.

Tom grinned and shrugged. "I really wouldn't trust anyone else to get the charms just the way I wanted them. I saw the bag at the market in the muggle village near my cottage. Thought it was perfect, but it needed some embellishment to make it a bit more personal. However, it's not like I could ask the muggle to put _snitches_ on it."

"It's wonderful. Thank you," Harry said, smiling widely.

Tom shrugged, somewhat sheepishly, but grinned.

The rest of the presents went by quickly enough. Ron looked entirely ashamed of his gift, which Harry opened next. It was an assortment of chocolates and wizarding candies, and it was clear he felt his gift was far inferior to Tom's. Tom leaned over to Ron as Harry began opening the next gift and nudged him in the side with his elbow.

"Don't worry about it. I'm _supposed_ to splurge on him. What kind of _boyfriend_ would I be, if I didn't? You're his best mate, and he'd probably feel really awkward if you spent too much on him. He _loved_ the chocolates. I could tell."

The twins gave Harry a box loaded with various product samples from their joke shop, and told Harry he could come by the store any time and have his pick of the merchandise. Harry objected, but they waved him off.

Hermione gave Harry a charmed organizer that would remind him if there was anything he was forgetting to do, while Ginny gave him a box of cauldron cakes. Neville gave Harry a book on defensive spells.

Luna's gift gave both Harry and Tom pause, the pair sharing a rather wary glance upon seeing it. It was a book entitled _'The Mischief Makers: Fae and Sprites of the North and the Highlands'._

"Uh.. Thanks, Luna," Harry said hesitantly.

"You asked me about them before we all got on the train to leave Hogwarts, so I thought you might need a book on them."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Oh! Right! I did. I'd totally forgotten about that. Yes, thank you!"

Hermione and Ron shared a look, and when Harry glanced over at Remus, the two made eye contact for a moment and the older wizard gave Harry a small nod. They'd had their 'talk' the evening before, so Remus was now in the know about Dumbledore's secrets that the Sidhe had revealed to Harry. He'd taken it with quiet resolve, and had found them considerably less shocking than Hermione or Ron had. He had experienced first-hand some of Dumbledore's darker tendencies, telling Harry about a time he'd honestly considered making a go at contacting Harry when he was younger, but had gotten the _distinct_ impression from Dumbledore that word of his _furry little problem_ would reach undesirable ears if he were to take such an action.

Sirius gave Harry a book on Dueling Magic, and a device that looked an awful lot like the Secrecy Sensor Filch used on the Students when leaving for Hogsmeade, and the one that the Fake Moody had shown Harry back in his 4th year. Only difference was that it was considerably smaller. Instead of a round reflective disc on the end of a long curved stick, the disc was secured in a holder that looked like it would do well placed on a desk.

"What's this?"

"It's a compact Secrecy Sensor. The disk there will start to spin and vibrate whenever someone within several feet of it is _lying_ ," Sirius said, with a rather false innocent smile in Tom's direction. Tom rolled his eyes.

Harry frowned at the device for a moment, worrying about the thing going off whenever he or Tom were around Ron and Hermione, and having to come up with excuses. He pushed the worries away and gave his godfather a small smile. "Thanks, Sirius."

"Happy birthday, pup."

Harry had just finished with the package from Remus, with a book, when the group was surprised by the sudden appearance of a silvery patronus flying in through an open window. It was a weasel, and as it came to a halt in mid air, a familiar voice filled the kitchen.

"I'm coming home early, and am bringing an unexpected guest. Head Auror Scrimgeour will be accompanying me," said Arthur Weasley's voice in a warning tone before the silvery weasel vanished in a wisp of silver smoke.

Eyes widened all around, and several worried glances were exchanged before Remus stood up rather quickly. "Sirius, I think this is a fairly clear sign that we ought to vanish, and quickly."

Sirius, whose brow was creased with sudden worry, nodded distractedly. Finally he seemed to snap out of it and began to stand, just as a fire could be heard billowing to life in the living room's hearth.

Remus' eyes widened with mild panic and he grabbed Sirius by the upper arm and, with Molly's quick guidance, the two disappeared into the pantry. Scrimgeour stepped through the fire and into the living room, followed an instant later by Arthur. They had rounded the corner to the kitchen a moment later, just as Sirius and Remus had been safely shut into the pantry.

Scrimgeour was in the lead with Arthur trailing behind him with a concerned look on his face.

"Uh, Molly, this is the Head Auror, Mr. Scrimgeour," Arthur said as Molly had rushed up to greet them at the entrance of the kitchen. "Head Auror Scrimgeour, this is my wife, Molly."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Scrimgeour said, giving her a distant smile as he looked over her shoulder to the full table. "Ah, it would seem I've interrupted a little gathering. Is that Mr. Harry Potter, I see there?"

Harry stood up slowly, eyeing the intruder cautiously. "Yeah, that's right."

"Ah, how fortunate. I really have been hoping to speak with you, Mr. Potter. Arthur, would you mind terribly we we discussed those… um, matters, later, perhaps?"

"I — yes, of course," Arthur said haltingly, looking worryingly from Scrimgeour to Harry and then to Molly.

"Mr. Potter, could I possibly borrow a few minutes of your time?"

Harry frowned and glanced over at Tom. Tom gave him a small nod of his head and then darted his eyes downward. Harry followed Tom's eyes to Tom's arm that he'd raised slightly above the table. His right hand was resting on his left, with his index finger reaching out and tapping at his watch.

Harry's eyes widened and darted back up to Tom's face. He gave a tiny nod and then turned back to Scrimgeour. "Yeah, that's fine."

"Fantastic. It's such a lovely day, perhaps we could take a brief walk through the garden?"

Harry followed Scrimgeour out the door and into the garden with all eyes trained wearily on them as they vanished.

After a moment of silence Molly turned on Arthur. "What's the meaning of this?" she asked in a hushed and yet still shrill tone.

"I'm sorry, I was speaking with Perkins in the 4th level breakroom and mentioned the birthday party, and Scrimgeour was apparently in there speaking with someone from another department and overheard. He made some excuse to visit… I couldn't very well refuse! He's the most likely candidate for Minister at this point. He's got more support in the House of Commons than Amelia…"

"Hush," Tom said suddenly, drawing all eyes to him, and then down to his wrist, as voices started coming from it.

" _So what's this really about?"_ Harry's voice came from the watch.

"Oh brilliant!" Ron exclaimed. "Harry's turned his watch-thing on!"

"What is —" Molly began to ask, but Tom held a finger up to his mouth and focused on the sound from the watch.

"— _been led to believe that this is information you're already aware of, but I wanted to come and discuss it with you personally." Scrimgeour's voice came through next._

" _What?"_ Harry asked.

" _Are you familiar with a man named Peter Pettigrew?"_

Harry let out a small humorless laugh. _"You mean the man who actually betrayed my parents and then framed my godfather for his murder? Yeah, I know about Pettigrew. He was the one who tied me to a statue in the graveyard when Voldemort was resurrected. I gave a statement about him being the real betrayer after third year, and again last year after it the graveyard disaster happened. Not that the Ministry ever seemed to do a single thing about it."_

There was silence for a moment after that. _"Well… yes. Unfortunately, Mr. Potter, my office never saw any sign of these statements you made. I would suspect that_ _Cornelius_ _may have suppressed those documents."_

An unamused snort came from Harry. _"Yeah, I don't doubt that."_

Tom glanced up as the door to the pantry creaked open and Sirius head popped out around the opening, looking with intense curiosity at Tom, or specifically, his watch. He stepped out further and Remus became visible behind him.

" _I'll have you know, Mr. Potter, that new information recently reached my desk in regards to Pettigrew's survival, and I made it my personal concern to make sure the matter was properly investigated. A failure, and_ coverup, _of this magnitude is not something I'm willing to let slide through my department, unattended to."_

" _Oh?"_

"' _Thanks to a source, and our investigation, we managed to apprehend Pettigrew last week. He's been in questioning, and a trial before the Wizengamot is scheduled for next week. Now, you mentioned your godfather. You mean Sirius Black, I presume?"_

" _That's right."_

" _So you believe that Black was entirely innocent of any involvement in your parents death?"_

" _I know it,"_ Harry said firmly.

" _Our investigation and questioning of Pettigrew also seems to suggest that Pettigrew was the one solely responsible for the destruction of that muggle street and the death of several muggles, which were crimes Black was convicted of, as well."_

" _That's right,"_ Harry said again. _"Pettigrew set it all up so Sirius would take the blame."_

" _If Pettigrew is found guilty, which seems guaranteed at this point, it would provide a solid foundation for repealing Sirius Black's conviction. I, for one, would like to see to it that proper justice is done. The notion that Fudge could have been aware of any evidence that Black was innocent, and sat on it - even went so far as to order Black's death on sight, to cover it up, is down right criminal. I've been head of the Auror Department for more than a decade. I can promise you, Mr. Potter, that had I known —"_

" _Can you really get Sirius exonerated?"_ Harry interrupted.

" _I'm sure of it. But only if he's found. He'll be guaranteed a_ real _trial this time. And a fair trial. But until he gets a retrial, he's still considered guilty, and an escaped convict."_

" _So you're saying that he has to turn himself in, before anything can be done?"_

" _That's correct."_

Tom, and basically everyone else in the kitchen, were looking over at Sirius now, though no one said a word.

" _Should he wait until after Pettigrew's trial to turn himself in?"_ Harry's voice came through a moment later.

" _Honestly, Mr. Potter, it would be ideal if he could be found before that. A special session of the Wizengamot is being called to meet and deal with Mr. Pettigrew's case. If Mr. Black's hearing could follow immediately after, it would guarantee a smooth reversal. Of that, I'm sure."_

Silence followed for several moments after that.

" _When is Pettigrew's trial?"_

" _Next Monday. The Wizengamot will sit for most of the day, attending to this, and other unexpected matters, starting with Pettigrew's case. The entire day is scheduled, in case anything runs long, since many of the issues being dealt with are of an unusual nature. It would be simple to work Sirius' case in immediately following Pettigrew's."_

" _What's the latest that Sirius could come to you, and this all still work out?"_

" _The sooner the better, I'm afraid. Anything later than Friday afternoon and there would be_ _bureaucratic_ _delays that could prevent Mr. Black being seen during Monday's session."_

Harry was quiet again for another moment before his voice came through the watch again. _"I'll keep all of this in mind. I am grateful that you came to me about this."_

" _Do you believe that Mr. Black can be reached in time?"_ Scrimgeour asked.

"… _Yes."_

" _Very well. I thank you for taking the time to speak with me today."_

" _Thank you."_

A rustling sound came next and then silence, suggesting Harry had turned the watch's magical transmission off. Movement could be seen beyond one of the kitchen windows and Remus made to drag Sirius back into the pantry but he stood firm and wouldn't let Remus budge him.

"Sirius, I'm not sure —" Remus began to say, glancing over at Molly and Arthur. "Your presence here could incriminate the Weasley's for aiding and abetting an escaped —"

But Remus didn't get to finish his sentence as the kitchen door was pushed open and in walked Rufus Scrimgeour followed by Harry.

"Ah, well, Arthur, I suppose we —" Scrimgeour began to speak, but his voice halted abruptly as his eyes fell upon Sirius standing to the back of the kitchen. He stood taller, puffing up his chest unconsciously and giving Sirius a very long and powerful stare. Sirius stood proudly with his head held high and only the slightest indication of nerves. Everyone else in the room was dead silent.

"Mr. Black, I presume?" Scrimgeour said in as nonchalant a tone as could be made in his deep gravely voice.

"That's right," Sirius said with a small nod. "I hear you lot found Peter."

Scrimgeour arched one oversized bushy eyebrow into his forehead. "That's correct. Though that's hardly public knowledge."

"I didn't betray James and Lily," Sirius said firmly.

Scrimgeour nodded. "That's what I've heard."

"If you've got Peter, then you should be able to prove it. I didn't do _any_ of it."

"Yes. We should. Pettigrew has confessed. He's made a full statement, including declaring your innocence."

Sirius' eyes widened and his face flashed with shock. "He confessed?"

"That's right."

Sirius looked down, an expression of concern mixed with confusion, before he looked back up. "You know he's an animagus, right? He can turn into a rat. You're sure that he can't —"

"Yes, Mr. Black. We know, and proper security precautions have been taken."

Sirius looked thoughtful again for a moment. "If I turn myself in, what guarantees do I have that you're not just going to throw me straight to the dementors for a little _kiss?_ "

"I am not Cornelius Fudge," Scrimgeour said with a disdainful sneer. "Cornelius was more concerned with protecting his public image and playing at petty politics, than actually attending to the common good of the people. If Justice can be so grossly disregarded in your case, Mr. Black, it can happen to _anyone_. I haven't spent my career as an Auror, and risen to the position of heading up the entire Auror Department, to see something like this happen under my watch."

"So, if I turn myself in —"

"I will personally guarantee your safety and fair trial."

What followed, Harry would remember as little more than a blur. Sirius agreed to go with Scrimgeour to the Ministry, and Scrimgeour had to call another Auror to come and escort him. Kingsley was the one who came, so Harry was at least a bit more confident in the security, but it still left him with a hallow, terrified hole in his chest, seeing Sirius disappear through the Floo a short time later.

A strange mixture of hope and fear filled him, and the party ended rather awkwardly after that with Luna and Neville wishing Harry good luck and heading back home.

Remus and Molly Weasley grilled Harry on the watch, to which Tom explained he'd enchanted it himself so that Harry could contact him easily, if he were ever in need of help. That aspect of it appeased Mrs. Weasley's concerns, and a brief discussion about the enchantments, and a promise to speak on it more another time, seemed to appease Remus.

Fred and George left next, both wishing Harry good luck and a happy birthday as they left. Finally, feeling rather exhausted from the busy day and unexpected end, Harry, Tom and Remus left the Burrow. Tom followed them back to Number 12 and after a promise to Remus to keep it brief, followed Harry to his room.

"I'll speak with my spies in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and get details on where and in what condition, Sirius is being held," Tom said immediately upon casting his usual silencing ward around the bedroom.

"You still have spies? I thought you gave up the imperiused wizards to get Malfoy's dad off."

Tom grinned softly. "Not all of my spies were under the Imperius. These are the spies that _cast_ most of the Imperius curses on Ministry employees."

"Ah, right. So you're going to… transform, and summon them?"

"I could, but I don't have to. I have methods of sending and receiving communications without having to meet in person. Getting some details shouldn't be too difficult."

Harry nodded, looking down at the floor thoughtfully. "Yeah… okay. That'd be great, actually." He looked back up. "Thank you. Really."

"With luck, this whole thing will be over by next Monday. You can hold off on going to Diagon for your school supplies a few extra days, and Sirius will be able to go with you. Walk down Diagon Alley with your godfather, as a free man." Tom gave Harry an encouraging smile.

Harry finally felt a smile grace his lips. "Yeah. A free man."

—


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

In the days that followed, Tom visited every day for at least a few hours, though usually longer. He did get a few tidbits of information from some of his informants, but nothing too in depth. Mostly, which part of the Law Enforcement holding cells Sirius was being kept in, and who had visited him from the Ministry since he'd been brought there. The only real consolation was that there was no indication he was being mistreated, and that there were no Dementors currently anywhere near the Ministry building.

Ron and Hermione often came as well, and to keep Harry distracted from his worries the group continued to practice the animagus transformation, though rarely for more than a half an hour a day, especially since Harry, Ron, and Hermione, were accustomed to getting most of their instruction on the subject from Sirius.

Tom also spent some time pushing Harry through some more magical exercises, and the two went through a few of Harry's new books together. Tom informed Harry that the Dueling book he'd gotten from Sirius was actually a rather good resource, if not a bit uninventive, and even the Defense book from Neville had some good spells in it, though Tom didn't feel the rest of the book had a lot of value to it.

The Friday before the trial, their Hogwarts letters arrived. Ron and Hermione came to Grimmauld Place right after breakfast, showing up almost immediately after Tom. Hermione was a nervous wreck, and had been for quite a few days leading up to the letters arrival, since it also included their OWL exam results.

Hermione was, apparently, devastated by her results. She'd only gotten an Exceeds Expectations in Defense, and not an Outstanding, like she had in _every single one_ of her _other_ subjects. A failure to get straight O's was apparently cause for despair.

Harry tried to point out that he'd gotten a _D_ in History of Magic, and she had no right complaining, but it didn't provide her any solace.

In contrast to Hermione, Harry's only O was in Defense. Though he did get Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, and Care of Magical Creatures, leaving him set to take any of those courses the following term.

"Not Potions, though," Ron had corrected Tom when he'd pointed out Harry's eligibility.

"Not Potions? What makes you say that?"

"Snape requires an O on your OWL exams in order to get into his Advanced Potion Making class," Ron said with a rather serene smile on his face. "So I _can't_ take his class next year, even if I wanted to. Which I don't." He grinned over at Harry. "Can you imagine it Harry? A year without Snape breathing down our necks, surrounded in noxious potion fumes."

Tom guffawed. "He requires an _O?_ Merlin, he's really trying to cull out the masses, isn't he? I imagine he has rather small classes if that's his mandate."

"What did you get on your potions OWL? When you took them, I mean?" Ron asked Tom.

"An O," Tom said with a dismissive shrug.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Guess I should have figured that. You've been making a living brewing potions, so it should have been obvious."

Tom grinned and shrugged.

"What about your other subjects?" Hermione asked, looking to have finally calmed herself down a bit, though she was still gripping her OWL results tighter than was really appropriate.

"You may not want to actually know the answer to that, Hermione," Harry said, giving her a sympathetic smile.

"Why not?" she asked, frowning.

"I got Outstandings on _all_ of my subjects," Tom explained gently.

"Oh," Hermione said in a flat empty tone, as she stared blankly at him before looking down at her sheet again.

Tom chuckled. "Hermione, you truly are a fabulously ridiculous girl. You took the standard subjects, plus several electives, correct? So Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Charms, and Defense, _plus_ how many others? Arithmancy, Astronomy, Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes, and History of Magic? Great Merlin, it's a bloody wonder you got as many O's as you did."

"Yes, but you didn't even take any classes!" she argued.

"I was self-taught, yes, but I didn't sit nearly as many exams as you did, so I only had to prepare for the ones I knew I would take."

"Which exams did you take?" she asked in a small, yet curious tone.

"The standard five, Transfiguration, Herbology, Potions, Charms and Defense. But that's it. That's a fairly significant number fewer exams than you prepared for."

She looked slightly appeased by this and finally heaved out a large sigh, seeming to release a large knot of tension from her shoulders and posture.

Ron informed them that his mum wanted to organize a trip to Diagon for that coming weekend, but Harry refused, saying he wanted to wait until after Sirius' trial.

Ron seemed to understand, and agreed. He told Harry that he'd tell his mum to wait.

The group slipped into their new routine, which now included regular games of chess to pass the time. Ron had found a new challenge in Tom. It had begun with Tom standing over Harry's shoulder, making suggestions, during a game between he and Ron. Harry had eventually given up, remarking that he almost never won against Ron. Ron, not wanting to stop yet, had then begged Tom to take Harry's place. By the time Ron and Hermione had left that day, Tom and Ron had a tied score of games won and lost, and Ron had been insisting on more games every day since.

Harry had asked Tom if he was letting Ron win, to which Tom had said Ron had honestly beaten him at least a few times, but that he _had_ thrown a few matches on purpose.

Sunday, the day before Sirius' trial, had felt like one of the longest days Harry had ever experienced. It seemed to drag on forever, and no matter what Tom, Ron, or Hermione did to try and distract him, Harry couldn't sit still. He was completely on edge, oscillating back and forth between hesitant, yet excited hope, and total and utter dread.

"If by some set of abhorrent circumstances, Sirius is sent back to Azkaban, I promise I will personally go in there and break him out," Tom had promised at one point when both Ron and Hermione were a far enough distance away to not overhear them.

Harry had rolled his eyes at him. "No you won't," he spoke quietly. "That would be insanely dangerous and I'd never expect you to do that for Sirius. You don't even _like_ Sirius."

"It would not be even slightly dangerous," Tom brushed him off. "Besides, I could break a few more of the Death Eaters captured during the Ministry attack out while I was at it."

"What? Why?" Harry guffawed.

"Is it so hard to believe that I honestly feel quite bad about them ending up in there?"

"You do realize that every one of them tried their best to kill me and my friends, right?"

"Harry, _I_ tried my very best to kill you for a great many years. Besides, the only reason any of them were there at all is because I ordered them to."

"They didn't have to go. They made that choice."

Tom gave him a flat, unimpressed stare. "You honestly think any of them could have refused and lived?"

Harry huffed and shook his head. "Whatever. It doesn't really matter. The point that it's too dangerous still stands though."

"Harry, it is not even remotely dangerous for me to go to Azkaban prison to get someone out."

Harry gave him a rather dubious look. "Uh, you being really powerful is impressive and all, but a prison filled to the brim with dementors and whatever guards the Ministry has there is still a bit much for one person to deal with all at once, and all on their own. I mean, I guess you probably have a powerful patronus, but —"

"The Dementors have pledged fealty to me. They'd turn on the Ministry guards the instant I showed up."

Harry stared at Tom blankly for a moment before shaking his head. "Wait, _what?"_

"The Dementors are mine. It was the same last winter when I got the last group I broke out of the prison, out. There was no great battle to break into the prison and get them. I quite literally, took out the human guards and then walked right in to pick out the ones I intended to take with me. It would be no different now."

"How is it that you've —"

"Hey Harry, I'm gonna run back to the Burrow really quick," Hermione's voice cut into their hushed conversation, drawing Harry's attention sharply away from Tom and onto Hermione.

"Huh?"

"I need a book, but it's back at the Burrow. I'm going to Floo there and back, alright?"

"Oh - yeah, fine," Harry said with a shrug.

Hermione's eyes narrowed at him and she glanced back and forth between Tom and Harry. "What are you two whispering about over here anyway?"

"Nothing," Harry said, too quickly, earning him a suspicious look from Hermione.

Tom smirked. "Dirty bedroom talk."

"Tom!" Harry exclaimed, causing Tom to burst out laughing.

Hermione's face went a bit red, but she smiled and laughed at Harry's reaction before rolling her eyes skyward and shaking her head. "You two…" she chuckled. "I'll be back in a few minutes."

As Hermione left the room, Harry turned back to Tom. "Don't think I've forgotten about that dementor business," he said in a hushed voice.

But before anything further could be discussed, Ron came over and threw himself down onto one of the armchairs and heaved a great tired sigh.

"Great Merlin, it's exhausting having just Hermione around so much. I really do wish you could just come stay at the Burrow a bit," he complained in an exaggerated whine. "I was expecting you to be coming and staying too, you know."

"I'm surprised she's staying for the whole rest of the summer," Tom commented. "You'd think she'd want to take advantage of what little time she has away from Hogwarts to actually spend some time with her parents."

Ron shrugged. "She says it's too hard to deal with them anymore. Too much stuff they don't understand or know about. I, er… think she hasn't really been too clear with them on some of the stuff going on in our world, if you know what i mean."

"You mean she has probably neglected to mention Death Eater attacks on government buildings, and abusive power-mad professors with torture devices disguised as quills?" Tom said in a vaguely sarcastic tone.

"Er, yeah," Ron said with a sheepish grin. "That and a lot more."

Harry frowned. "You think she's been lying to her parents?"

"Well, if you list out the dangerous stuff, it sounds like we're all running for our lives all the time, but really, it's just a couple things each year, and normal stuff the rest. Well… except for Umbridge. That was pretty much all year," Ron grimaced. "But to a pair of muggle's the danger we've managed to run into would probably be really scary. Hermione said if she'd told them even half of the stuff we've gotten into over the years, they would have pulled her from Hogwarts ages ago."

"Seems perfectly reasonable to me," Tom said with a shrug.

"That they'd pull Hermione from Hogwarts?" Harry exclaimed.

"No, that she'd be hiding things from them. That's not to say she hasn't been in an unreasonable amount of danger, but learning to master magic is worth the danger."

"Yeah… yeah it is," Harry said in a quiet voice.

—

Later that evening, after Ron and Hermione had returned to the Burrow and Tom had left to return to his cottage, Harry found himself sitting in the drawing room, reluctantly reading a book to distract himself, while Remus sat nearby reading something and occasionally making notes in a notebook. He'd been making an extra effort to keep Harry company since Sirius had turned himself into the Ministry. Harry wasn't sure if it was just out of concern, and to keep Harry from getting lonely, or if it was really just to keep an eye on Harry and make sure he didn't do something reckless like try to sneak off to the Ministry to pay Sirius a visit.

Whatever the real reason behind it was, Harry had to admit he was grateful for the company. Tom would be back, later that night, but that was still several hours away.

Just as Harry was about to set the book down out of boredom and frustration, the front bell sounded throughout the old victorian townhouse. Harry and Remus shared a questioning look. Harry shrugged at Remus who hummed curiously and stood up to go investigate. Harry followed and the two were halfway down the stairs to the ground floor when they saw that Kreacher was opening the front door and glaring suspiciously at Albus Dumbledore, standing on the front landing.

"Albus," Remus remarked in surprise as he reached the floor and went over to greet the wizened old wizard.

Remus' greeting wasn't nearly as genial as it might have once been, but he did a better job of hiding any wariness than Sirius had. Now, with them standing face-to-face, you would never really guess that Remus now distrusted the man who he had trusted and relied upon for so many years.

"Is something the matter?" Remus asked in a worried tone. Harry came to stand beside him and his mind instantly flew to Sirius and a hundred different scenarios of disaster.

"No, no. Nothing's wrong. Rather, I was wondering if I could possibly borrow Mr. Potter for a brief trip?" Dumbledore looked down at Harry with a playful question in his twinkling blue eyes.

Harry had to fight hard not to scowl at the man.

"Borrow, for what?" Harry asked cautiously.

"Well, I have lost count of the number of times I have said this in recent years, but we are, once again, one member of staff short. I was hoping to bring you with me while I attempt to persuade an old colleague of mine to come out of retirement and return to Hogwarts."

Harry frowned in confusion. "What do you need _me_ for?"

"Oh, I think we'll find a use for you," said Dumbledore vaguely

"No, really. Why would _my_ being there make him come back to Hogwarts?" Harry asked dubiously.

"Ah, well, he has a tendency to be drawn to people of… interest."

"Are we talking about Slughorn?" Remus asked, surprised.

"Ah, yes we are," Dumbledore confirmed with a genial smile.

"Ah… I see why you think Harry being there would catch his eye," Remus said with a clipped snort.

Harry frowned, looking back at Remus with an unspoken question in his eyes.

"Horace Slughorn is the sort of man who likes to make himself feel important by being able to say he knows important people," Remus explained to Harry. "He would like nothing more than to be able to tell people he _taught the Boy-Who-Lived_ how to do this, or that."

Harry grimaced and rolled his eyes. "Oh," he said, unimpressed.

"It would be of great assistance if you would be willing to help me with this, Harry. I've tried to convince Horace on my own, but he's quite firm in his insistence on continuing his retirement."

"But you need a teacher to fill the hole at Hogwarts," Harry concluded dryly. He sighed heavily and shrugged. "Fine, yeah. How long will it take? I've got to get to bed early tonight since Sirius' trial is tomorrow."

"Completely understandable. It shouldn't take too awful long. I promise to have you back within the hour."

They went into the back garden of Grimmauld Place and Dumbledore Apparated the pair of them to what appeared to be a deserted village square, in the center of which stood an old war memorial and a few benches.

After a quick word to Harry about keeping his wand ready, Dumbledore led Harry down the street at a brisk pace past an empty inn and a few houses.

Harry couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't really a ruse, and Dumbledore was just leading him into another trap in hopes of Harry ending up dead. He suspected he was being overly paranoid, but he couldn't help the worry being there. Harry fingered the watch on his left wrist and wondered if he should activate it, just to be safe. Deciding that in this case, caution was probably better than regret, Harry pushed the button that would send sound to Tom's watch, but not receive.

"Er — where exactly are we?" Harry asked, figuring that would be the first and most useful bit of information for Tom, if by chance, something did go wrong.

"This, Harry, is the charming village of Budleigh Babberton."

"And this friend of yours lives here?"

"He does at the moment," Dumbledore said vaguely with a cheerful nod. "So tell me, Harry, your scar . . . has it been hurting at all?"

Harry raised a hand unconsciously to his forehead and rubbed the lightning-shaped mark. He wondered what it might mean to Dumbledore if Harry answered one way or the other, but opted to just answer truthfully, since Dumbledore had a greater chance of noting something being off if Harry lied too much.

"Er, no sir."

"Do you recall what the last time it bothered you was?"

"The Ministry, I suppose," Harry said and looked up to Dumbledore to find he was wearing a rather self-satisfied expression.

"I had hoped as much. I suspect that Lord Voldemort has finally realized the dangerous access to his thoughts and feelings you have been enjoying. It appears that he is now employing Occlumency against you."

"Oh…" Harry said, hesitantly. "Er, well I'm not complaining," he concluded quickly a moment later.

They turned left and proceeded down a narrow street, lined with houses.

"Um, so I saw in the Daily Prophet that the final vote in the Wizengamot to determine Fudge's replacement will be held next Wednesday," Harry said, trying to fill the silence, more than anything else. "It said it's down between Madam Bones and Scrimgeour."

"Ah, yes, that is correct. I suspect that it's eminent date might also be part of why Rufus Scrimgeour was so insistent on squeezing in Peter Pettigrew and Sirius' trial, as soon as he has."

"Oh?" Harry asked, mildly confused by that.

"I believe he is hoping to demonstrate his suitability for the position with this action."

"Ah… right," Harry nodded. "Which do you want to be picked?"

"Me? That's an interesting question. They're both decent candidates. Rufus, for example, is certainly a more decisive and forceful personality than Cornelius. "Rufus is a man of action and, having fought Dark wizards for most of his working life, does not underestimate Lord Voldemort. Madam Bones is someone I have held in high regard for a great many years. I have worked closely with her within the Wizengamot, and I am confident that she would focus on the important matters in need of addressing with fewer concerns towards political distractions. She is a woman of integrity, and I consider her a truly great witch. "

"So… do you have a preference?"

"Alas, it is not up to me. Ah - this is the place, Harry, just here…"

They reached the front gate of a house and Dumbledore suddenly stopped dead, causing Harry to nearly walk into him.

"Oh dear. Oh dear, dear, dear."

Harry followed his gaze up the carefully tended front path and felt his heart sink. The front door was hanging off its hinges.

After a quick glance around the empty street Dumbledore pressed forward. "Wand out and follow me, Harry," he spoke softly.

They made their way into the house and found a scene of utter devastation. A grandfather clock lay splintered at their feet, its face cracked. Cushions lay deflated, feathers oozing from slashes in their sides; fragments of glass and china lay like powder over everything. There even appeared to be blood spattered over the wallpaper.

"Something horrible has happened here…" Dumbledore whispered softly.

Harry's mind whirled with questions, wondering who could have done something like this. If it had been done by Death Eaters, Harry could only assume it had been done against Tom's orders, but Harry couldn't think of any reason that an old retired professor from Hogwarts would warrant the attention of some rogue Death Eaters.

"Do you think they may have dragged him off?" Harry asked.

"I don't think so," said Dumbledore quietly, peering behind an overstuffed armchair lying on its side.

And without warning, Dumbledore swooped, plunging the tip of his wand into the seat of the overstuffed armchair, which yelled, "Ouch!"

"Good evening, Horace," said Dumbledore, straightening up again.

Harry gaped as, what a moment earlier had been a stuffed armchair, was now revealed to be an enormously fat and bald old man with a very large mustache that reminded Harry of a walrus.

"There was no need to stick it in so deeply! That hurt," the man grumbled, rubbing at his stomach and standing up. "What gave it away?" he grunted.

Dumbledore went on to explain that if this had been the work of Death Eaters, they would have left a Dark Mark over the house.

Harry felt terribly bewildered by the whole thing, and how unabashed the man was having been found impersonating an armchair.

The pair then proceeded to stand back-to-back and with a sweeping synchronized movement of each of their wands, put the whole wreck of a room back together. Once that was done, the man's attention turned on Harry, and an interested 'Oho!' came from the man that it was now clear was Horace Slughorn, as he took in the scar upon Harry's forehead.

"So that's how you thought you'd persuade me, is it? Well, the answer's no, Albus."

He pushed past Harry, but Dumbledore did manage to convince him to sit down for a drink, _'For old time's sake'._

The two engaged in a bit of banter and bickering as Dumbledore attempted to convince Slughorn to come to Hogwarts, and Slughorn made excuses about rheumatism, and old age.

" — If you're going to tell me my life would be more peaceful at that pestilential school, you can save your breath, Albus! I might have been in hiding, but some funny rumors have reached me since Dolores Umbridge left! If that's how you treat teachers these days —"

"Professor Umbridge ran afoul of our centaur herd," said Dumbledore. "I think you, Horace, would have known better than to stride into the forest and call a horde of angry centaurs 'filthy half-breeds.'"

"That's what she did, did she?" said Slughorn. "Idiotic woman. Never liked her."

Harry couldn't help but chuckle at that, and this it appeared, was enough to draw attention back to him.

It was at this moment that Dumbledore rather abruptly stood up and asked if he could use the loo.

What followed was a rather lengthy and round-about discussion involving Slughorn's favorites, Harry's mum, and various people that Slughorn knew who still cared about his opinion or would keep him abridged of the latest goings-on in their place of work. But then the man admitted that, having been in hiding as he was, he hadn't had much opportunity to speak with any of these old friends and students anymore.

Harry was a bit surprised to realize the man was once Head of Slytherin House. Their conversation went on for quite a while and Harry did make a conscious effort to do his part in convincing this man that coming back to Hogwarts wouldn't be the same as declaring allegiance to the Order of the Phoenix, and that coming to the school would probably make him _safer_ if anything else, not that Harry really believed it all that much, but the last thing he wanted was for the Ministry to send along another Umbridge, if Dumbledore failed to fill the post himself again.

Dumbledore appeared rather suddenly, noting that he'd gotten wrapped up reading a muggle magazine in the loo, and then telling Harry it was time to leave, as he knew a lost cause when he saw one.

Just as the pair were saying their goodbye's, Slughorn burst out, conceding that he'd take the job after all. He did demand a pay raise, but things seemed to come to a simple enough conclusion after that and Harry and Dumbledore finally left the little house behind and headed back up the street they'd come from.

They apparated back to the rear garden of Grimmauld Place and paused. "If you don't mind, Harry, I'd like a few words with you in private, if I may?" Dumbledore asked.

"Erm, okay," Harry agreed hesitantly.

"We haven't had much of an opportunity to speak, since Sirius' rather unexpected, yet still quite wonderful, return. Do you… think he's doing well?"

"Sirius?" Harry echoed, slightly surprised. "Yeah, he's great."

"That is good to hear. Now… I gather that you have been taking the Daily Prophet over the last two weeks?"

"Yeah, that's right."

"Then you have likely seen that there was been a considerable amount of speculation regarding your adventure in the Hall of Prophecy?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes," he grumbled, thinking about the last few headlines, declaring their suspicions of his role as 'Chosen One'. "All that nonsense to protect the prophecy and now the whole bloody world knows that —"

"No, they do not. The only people who know the contents of the prophecy are standing right here in this garden."

Harry's eyes narrowed and he felt himself glaring slightly at Dumbledore, in response to that _statement_ , so he diverted his eyes to the ground instead.

"It is true, however, that many have guessed, correctly, that Voldemort sent his Death Eaters to steal a prophecy, and that the prophecy concerned you," Dumbledore continued and Harry heaved a breath, pulling himself back together and nodding. "Now, I assume that you have not told anyone what the prophecy said?"

"Er…" Harry began grimacing. "I told Sirius, actually."

"Ah. That was probably for the best. I was actually going to suggest that you ought to reveal the truth to your friends, Mr. Ronald Weasley and Miss Hermione Granger. Yes," he continued, when Harry looked startled, "I think they ought to know. You do them a disservice by not confiding something this important to them. But Sirius is also easily included in that group. On a different, though related, subject, it is my wish that you take private lessons with me this year."

At this Harry's intrigue and curiosity perked up, and he also felt his heart rate pickup considerably.

"Private? With you?"

"Yes. I think it is time that I took a greater hand in your education."

"What will you be teaching me?"

"Oh, a little of this, a little of that," said Dumbledore airily. Harry waited a moment, but it quickly became clear that he was not going to elaborate.

Harry did ask if he was going to be forced back into Occlumency lessons with Snape, and much to his relief, he would _not_. And finally, Dumbledore asked that Harry start to keep his Invisibility Cloak with him, at all times, even when back at Hogwarts, which Harry found rather curious, but certainly not bad advice.

Dumbledore bid Harry goodbye and Harry went back into Grimmauld Place while Dumbledore apparated away.

Remus was in the kitchen, waiting up for Harry. He asked absently if they'd succeeded in getting Slughorn to come back, and Harry told him that they had.

After that, they said goodnight to each other, and Harry went up to his bedroom. Harry entered the room to find Tom sitting cross-legged on his bed.

"Oh, right!" Harry said, reaching down and pushing the button to end the audio transmission of his watch. Tom grinned lightly.

"That was rather unexpected," Tom remarked.

"You're telling me?" Harry said, rolling his eyes and coming over to sit next to Tom on the bed. "Sorry to bug you with that, especially since it didn't end up being anything to worry about."

"Nonsense. I'm glad you did it. I'd hate to think of what _could_ have happened, had the meeting been of a less innocuous nature."

Harry shrugged.

"So… Horace is coming back to Hogwarts," Tom mused curiously, an air of amusement in his tone.

"Do you know him?"

"He was my Head of House, when I was a student, the first time," Tom said with a chuckle.

"Oh. Wow, he's old."

"Curious though…"

"What is?"

"Horace is _not_ a Defense Professor."

Harry frowned. "He's not?"

"No. Horace Slughorn is a _Potions_ Master. If he's coming back to Hogwarts, that would seem to suggest that Severus is finally getting to take up the post of Defense Professor."

Harry groaned miserably. "Ugh, _no!_ That's my _best class!_ I was finally going to be rid of him! I'm not taking Potions this year, I wouldn't have had to deal with him _at all!_ "

Tom chuckled, earning him a mild scowl from Harry. "Actually, with Horace now back as Potions Professor, that Exceeds Expectations you got on your OWL exam should be sufficient to get you into Advanced Potions."

"Oh," Harry said, not sure if he should be happy about this or not.

"It's a shame though, really…"

"What is?"

"That I went and removed the curse on the Defense Post already. It would have been a wonderful way to deal with Severus."

Harry snickered and rolled his eyes.

"I have to admit, I can't help but wonder about Dumbledore's true motive is for recruiting Horace…" Tom mused, thoughtfully.

"Oh?"

"I suspect it's related to my horcruxes."

"What? Why?"

"Horace is the only person I _ever_ spoke to in regards to horcruxes. He's also one of the very few people who know that _Tom Riddle_ and _Lord Voldemort_ are the same person."

"Ooh… so is that why he was so paranoid that Death Eaters were out to get him?"

Tom shrugged. "Probably. Although, honestly, before things changed, I probably wouldn't have given him much thought at all, had he remained suitably invisible to me. I only would have spared him any thought had he come to work at Hogwarts, as he has now. So his fears that going to the school would actually put him in greater danger, were honestly well-founded. Not that it means anything _now_ of course."

"Is there anything he could tell Dumbledore that would be dangerous?"

"Hmm… no… no I don't think so. At most he could give Dumbledore a general idea of how many horcruxes I had hoped to make, but that information is meaningless now, since I've been reabsorbing them."

"You don't think there's any risk of him _recognizing_ you, is there?"

Tom shook his head. "No. If Dumbledore didn't recognize me, Horace won't either. The Fidelius charm I used to conceal any old knowledge of what I looked like as a teen, seems to have worked just as I intended. Not to mention that no one has recognized my wand, which was always considered rather identifiable, and I know quite a few Order members would have seen it numerous times during the war, so they _would_ know what it looked like. The spell has clearly worked. I'm confident that Horace won't look at me and see Tom Riddle."

Harry nodded. "Alright. So if you told him about horcruxes, does that mean you two knew each other pretty well?"

"I would hardly put it that way. Honestly, I was rather invisible to him for my first few years at Hogwarts. He had started to acknowledge my academic potential by my third year, but I was still 'that muggleborn boy' in his house. By forth year, however, I began to draw in a lot more attention, and had gained quite a bit of confidence in interacting with my housemates, mostly driven by my discovery of my ancestral connections. My being descended from Slytherin was a secret, so of course, half the students in Slytherin house, and the Slytherin Head of House, knew it. After that he became much more interested in adding me to his _collection_."

"Dumbledore and Remus both mentioned something about that. What's that _mean_ exactly?"

"Are you familiar with the concept of professional networking?"

Harry gave him a rather dubious look. "Does that sound like something I'd know about?"

Tom chuckled. "Basically, the best way to get ahead in the world is to know the right people. Most times when a business is hiring, the first thing they do is ask the people who already work there if they know anyone that they'd recommend. Word of mouth, and knowing the right people and having them recommend you, will get you ahead in the world ten times over someone who is skilled, but knows no one, or is disliked by everyone. Professional Networking is connecting and forming a net of important and influential people. The more important people you know, the more beneficial this can be to you, and to everyone else in the net. Horace Slughorn was a _master_ of networking.

"Given his position as a Head of House in the leading magical school in all of Britain, it's no wonder he'd have access to many talented people, but his best and strongest skill was his ability to identify and _collect_ those with the most potential to become someone _important_ someday. Either through family connections, personality, or pure talent. He had what he called the 'Slug Club', which would meet regularly for tea and biscuits, or dinners, and even organized dance parties, so that his current slug-club students could mingle and get to meet alumni of the school who had gone out into the world to become successful in their own right.

"Now there's no denying that Horace did this in part because it made him feel incredibly important, and that he himself benefited from the gifts and admiration, of all those important people whose lives he touched, but it's also undeniable that what he did was also a great service to the students he collected. His connections and his recommendations had a great deal of weight to them. Some would say that Horace was talented at finding people who were going to become important, but you could also argue that people who Horace picked became important, in part, _because he picked them._ "

Harry had frowned through most of Tom's talk, just trying to process the whole idea. "Okay, I think I get it. But that doesn't mean I really fancy the idea of being _collected_."

Tom chuckled. "No, you wouldn't. I'm sure that the whole thing would feel rather superficial and contrived to you. But the Slugclub isn't all politics and mind-games. He collects skilled quidditch players, and talented gobstones players, just as often as he collects transfiguration prodigies, and the children of potions tycoons."

"Hmm," Harry hummed in a vaguely disinterested tone before letting out a long yawn.

"Getting tired?"

"Eh," Harry shrugged.

"Should I let you get some sleep?"

Harry turned to him and gave him a small smile. "No."

"No?"

Harry smirked. "That's right. I said no."

"So…?"

Harry sat up and in one fluid sweeping motion, twisted around and straddled Tom's lap, pinning him against the wall.

Tom chuckled and looked up at Harry. "What's this now?"

"With luck, Sirius is going to be a free man tomorrow. But right now he's _not here_. And Remus is going out on a mission tonight. He's probably already gone. I don't think we're going to get a better opportunity to be _alone_ …"

"Oho?" Tom responded, grinning cheekily. "It almost sounds to me that you intend to take advantage of me." Tom made a mockingly affronted face before ducking his head and chuckling. Harry laughed as well, but a moment later he stopped and pushed forward, crushing his lips against Tom's.

Tom hummed in slight surprise before moaning in appreciation and pressing up into Harry's kiss. Their tongues danced and Harry ground his hips against Tom's groin, eliciting some wonderful whimpers from him. Harry pulled back, pulling in a deep gasp of air before reaching down and tugging Tom's shirt up from the bottom. Tom sat forward and raised his arms into the air, letting Harry relieve him of the shirt an toss it to the side.

"Oh… yesss…" Harry said, looking down at Tom's bare chest. He pressed his hands against Tom's skin and moved them up and down his sides, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingers. Tom hummed happily and his eyes lulled partially closed.

Harry scooted back a bit onto Tom's legs and bent down, pressing his mouth to Tom's collarbone and kissing along it before gently biting at the dip of Tom's neck and sucking.

Tom moaned and involuntarily thrust his hips upward, but with Harry shifted lower, there was nothing to press against. Tom whimpered and gasped as Harry continued to kiss his way along Tom's neck and shoulder. Tom forced his heavily lidded eyes open and reached out, grabbing Harry's shirt and pulling it over his head. Harry paused only long enough to let the shirt be removed before going back in, kissing and licking at Tom's chest.

Harry shifted and started to maneuver Tom to turn. Tom followed Harry's lead and soon he'd rotated the lay lengthways on the bed with his head now on Harry's pillow. Harry shifted and went back to straddling Tom's hips, and he almost instantly went back to grinding against Tom with considerable enthusiasm.

Tom's hand grabbed and stroked at Harry's exposed chest and back, and up into Harry's hair, occasionally pulling Harry's face away from his chest and neck and back up so he could kiss him directly. The pair moaned into each other's mouths as they moved and tangled together, pressing skin against skin, and getting lost in the feeling of warmth and desire.

Harry pulled back, panting and leaving Tom gasping for breath. Harry scooted back again, now straddling Tom's lower legs. His eyes trained on Tom's groin for a moment of internal debate before Harry reached out and wrapped his hands along the top of Tom's trousers, over the button fly. Harry's hands stopped there and his eyes went up to meet with Tom's - the unasked question written on his face.

Tom looked torn between enthusiastically nodding, and hesitation. In the end, he gave Harry a small nod and Harry grinned and quickly began to work the buttons open.

Tom raised his hips as Harry began to try and work the pants down, giving Harry easier access, and soon his erect member broke free from the previously confining cotton and Harry paused and just stared at it.

"You're going to make me blush," Tom said in a somewhat breathless tone.

Harry blushed and ducked his head, grinning sheepishly. "I hadn't really gotten a good look at it before."

"Like what you see?" Tom asked cheekily.

Harry chuckled and shrugged bashfully. "Yeah," he whispered, looking back up at Tom through his fringe. "Can I —?"

"You think I'm going to say no to _that?"_ Tom laughed before letting his smile soften. _"_ You can do whatever you want with it Harry. Anything you want with _me_. I'm yours." Tom pushed himself upward, threaded his fingers into Harry's hair along the back of his head, and pressed their lips together, kissing Harry slowly and deeply.

"Mine," Harry whispered as they parted, a hint of wonder and disbelief in his voice.

"Yours," Tom repeated with determination in his eyes.

"If your mine, then I'm yours," Harry whispered back.

Tom gave Harry a soft smile. "I like that."

Harry pushed forward and they kissed again before Harry pulled back, pushed Tom back down on the bed and shifted down until he was face to face with Tom's groin.

Harry stared at Tom's erect penis for a long moment, just taking in the look of it and what he wanted to do. Curiosity, arousal, and a desire to do to Tom, what Tom had done to Harry, flooded him and gave him the boost his nerves needed to press forward.

Harry took Tom into his mouth, hesitantly at first, unsure exactly what he was doing, and mostly afraid of doing something wrong.

"Oh _god_ ," Tom moaned as he threw his head back against the pillow and his hips bucked a bit, uncontrollably.

Harry smiled around Tom's member, encouraged by Tom's reaction, and sucked in his cheeks with greater force before pushing down and trying to get more of the shaft wet and go deeper without gagging.

Tom whimpered and seemed to be fighting to hold himself still. Harry pressed on, loving Tom's small desperate motions and sounds.

Harry bobbed his head up and down, finding confidence with the rhythm and repetition, but mostly from Tom's enthusiasm. Harry's own cock throbbed from lack of attention but Harry continued on, finding himself moaning around Tom's cock, aroused so much just from Tom's reactions.

"Oh god, oh god… oh, guh… uh…" Tom panted, his hands threaded lightly into Harry's hair. "Fuck, Harry… I… God, I want… I…" Tom's head turned from side to side with wanton delirium.

Harry pulled back enough to suck in a deep breath and pause. "What do you want?" he rasped through swollen lips.

"I… I want _you_ … and I want you to fuck me," Tom said, his head tipping up enough that he could meet Harry's eyes. "If you're ready…"

"Oh…" Harry said, feeling a mixture of surprise, excitement, anxiety, and desire, run through him, all at once. "I don't really know…" Harry trailed off, feeling stupid even admitting it. It wasn't like he hadn't _thought_ about it, but he honestly didn't know much about how two guys went about that sort of thing, _specifically_. Being aware of what it was to 'bugger' someone was not the same as knowing how exactly it was properly done.

"I've never actually been on the receiving end before, actually," Tom admitted, smiling sheepishly. "But I've been on the other end. It's not really all that complicated."

"You've never uh…"

"Bottomed is the term most often used, I believe. You'd be 'top'."

"And you want me to, er… be the top?"

"This time, definitely," Tom said, grinning. "I'd like… I think I'd like a balance. There's no requirement that there has to be permanent roles, set in stone. I was stubborn in my earlier life. I want to be more flexible now. We do what feels good, when we want to do it. But this first time, I definitely want you to top."

"Any particular reason? Not that I'm complaining."

"It'll be a first for both of us. _Our_ first. _Your_ first. Even _my_ first."

Harry smiled softly and smiled. "I like that."

Tom grinned wider. "Me too."

"Er… okay…" Harry pulled in a breath to try and pull together his Gryffindor courage. "I want to. I'm just not sure what to do."

Tom shifted, signaling for Harry to move off him, and then made quick work of completely removing his trousers and pants. Harry hesitated for only a moment, but as soon as Tom reached towards Harry's waist and fingered the button, Harry reached down and began removing his own trousers.

After a few moments of eager yet awkward fumbling, both were naked and back into position on the bed with Tom still on his back and Harry on his knees, straddling Tom's lower legs.

Tom grabbed his trousers and pulling his wand out from where it was loosely tucked into the pocket.

"Now, for muggles, this process is considerably more involved," Tom began. "The muscles down _there_ tend to be rather tight, and getting them to loosen and relax can be a time-intensive process that is still not guaranteed to work for everyone. Plus you also need a great deal of lubricant, which we obviously don't have on hand."

"Er… okay."

"There's a spell I know that both lubricates and acts as a muscle relaxant of sorts. It skips some of the harder work and significantly reduces the chance of pain or injury."

"So it _can_ hurt?"

Tom gave him a small grin and shrugged. "Yes, if the muscles don't relax, it can hurt quite a lot. And without lubricant you can tear the skin down there. That's why the prepwork is so important."

"And you've done that sort of thing before?"

Tom tipped his head in a conceding motion. "A very very long time ago. Fortunately, the last time I engaged in any kind of act like this, I still had enough decency to make use of the spell on my partner. If much more time had passed and I'd still had any interest in such acts, I have no doubt that I would not have bothered…" he looked off to the side with a rather distressed frown on his face. "I probably would have enjoyed their pain," he said quietly before closing his eyes for a moment and taking in a slow breath, as if trying to push the thoughts away. He opened them again and gave Harry a weak smile and shrugged.

"Hey," Harry said gently, reaching out and cupping the side of Tom's face. "It doesn't matter anymore. I'm just glad that at least one of us has some idea what he's doing, because, honestly, I'm a bit terrified.

Tom chuckled and shook his head. "It's fine, Harry. Nothing to be scared of."

"I don't want to hurt you."

"And you won't." Tom held Harry's eyes for a moment until Harry nodded with acknowledgement. "Alright," Tom said, leaning back again, spreading his legs and pointing his wand towards himself at a rather awkward angle. He gave Harry a slightly embarrassed grin. "If I can't manage this at this angle, you might have to do it."

Harry's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything back.

Tom waved his wand and a jet of light shot from the tip towards his bum. A small intake of breath escaped Tom's breaths before a semi-twisted expression.

"Is that it?"

"No, that was just a cleansing spell," Tom shook his head and made another, more complicated gesture with his wand and another light, this one purple in tint, shot from his wand.

Tom gasped and arched a bit off the bed, letting a small strangled moan escape from his throat. "Oh… " he said breathily.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked, worriedly.

"Oh yes… Yes, I'm… good," Tom gasped, an air of surprise in his breathy voice.

Harry arched a single eyebrow and gave Tom a slightly amused grin. "Feels good?"

Tom let himself fall back onto the bed and tossed his wand onto the bedside table before turning his glazed eyes back on Harry. "Surprisingly so."

"Well, that's good, I suppose."

Tom laughed lightly and smiled up at Harry.

"So erm… what… do I do?" Harry asked, fidgeting slightly with obvious nerves.

Tom's grin turned predatory and he pushed himself up so he was sitting, then scooted back along the bed, pushed himself up on his knees and started to prowl towards and over Harry, who bent back and let Tom place himself above Harry.

"What —" Harry began, but he was cut off suddenly by Tom's body moving forward and his lips crashing against Harry's. Harry let out a small, strangled moan, surprised by Tom's intensity. Then Tom's hand wrapped around Harry's cock and began stroking him. Harry moaned into Tom's mouth again, and Tom moaned right back. The two began to move together, tangling together and thrusting against each other, searching for friction.

Harry's cock was at full attention after only a few moments of this and Tom pulled back, making Harry whimper slightly in surprise. Any disappointment vanished a second later to be replaced with a startled cry as Tom swiftly moved down and took Harry's member into his mouth.

"Oh, shit," Harry exclaimed with a gasp. A few jerky thrusts escaped his body involuntarily before Harry managed to hold himself still while Tom bobbed up and down a few times, getting Harry's cock thoroughly coated in his own saliva.

And then Tom pulled back away from Harry, scooted a bit and laid onto his back. Harry blinked at him in a daze before his mind seemed to catch up with things.

"Come here," Tom said, his voice rough with need.

Harry moved to his knees and climbed up further until he was placed between Tom's spread legs. Tom maneuvered some more, grabbing at Harry's shoulders and sides and bending himself nearly in half with his knees up high. Harry couldn't help but stare down at the sight of Tom exposed so completely. His eyes fell upon Tom's cock, and then down to the small pink pucker below. His heart was racing and his head was flooded with desire and fear.

"Harry —" Tom's voice seemed distant, and Harry's head was swimming with thoughts and feelings and fears. _"Harry —"_

"Huh?" Harry said, pulled suddenly out of his stunned stupor, to realize he'd been kneeling there, virtually motionless for at least a minute.

Tom smiled up at him, understandingly. He reached up with his right hand and cupped the side of Harry's face for a moment before combing his fingers through Harry's short hair at the side of his head. "I love you."

A short, startled, breath escaped Harry's chest. "Whuh?" he said, inarticulately.

Tom pulled Harry's face down while bending up and kissed him passionately. Harry returned it, whimpering into Tom's open mouth. Tom pulled back, just enough to turn his face to the side and whisper into Harry's ear. "Make love to me, Harry."

A shuddering breath left Harry's lips and he pulled back enough to look into Tom's eyes. So much was said in those eyes. Tom was afraid too; but also confident. And _trusting_. Tom, who never trusted anyone in his whole life, was looking at Harry with absolute trust.

Harry's fears seemed to vanish and he finally shifted himself until the head of his cock was pressing against the small pink pucker of Tom's bum. Tom moaned and his head lulled back onto the bed as he evened his breathing in apparent preparation.

Harry slowly pressed forward and found less resistance than he'd expected.

"O-ooh…" Harry said in a startled, shuddering tone, his own head falling forward so that his forehead pressed against Tom's chest. It was so _tight_. So _warm_. "Oh god," Harry rasped.

Tom groaned as well, and his hips shifted, pushing forward and bringing Harry in deeper, faster.

Harry pulled back and thrust forward a few more times in short bursts, getting a little deeper each time until he felt he had managed to get as deep as he could. Tom was panting in short staccato bursts. He whimpered and squirmed against Harry, and his sphincter muscles contracted around Harry's cock while his hips moved, clearly trying to get Harry to move.

"Hold still," Harry rasped urgently. Tom whimpered. "Oh god… I don't think I'm gonna… I don't think I can last," Harry admitted as he fought desperately against his inexperienced body's inclination to pop far too soon for his own liking.

"Nnnn… ugh…" Tom let out a vaguely frustrated groan and reached blindly to the side with his hand, summoning his wand into it with a simple flick of his wrist. A moment later he had his wand tip pressed against Harry's side and murmured some quiet words before tossing the wand away again.

"Wha - what'd you just do?"

"You'll last longer. Now _move!_ " he groaned, desperation dripping from his words.

Harry didn't feel any different, but slowly pulled back before thrusting back in again. He moaned as he was flooded with the pleasure of the act, but it wasn't like the imminent train wreck he'd sensed coming, only moments before. It was still there, but it was further away. He pulled back and pressed forward again, and again. Tom grunted out, in a deep, rough voice, and angled his hips and pressed up to meet each of Harry's thrusts. The two fell into a perfect rhythm, moving against and with each other's bodies. Melded together and slicked with sweat. Desperate cries of pleasure and need, being pumped out like a beating heart, pushing blood through their veins.

Harry could feel that glorious climax building again, but it wasn't something to run from now, but something to race towards. Somewhere in the delirium of his mind, he registered that he wanted to make sure Tom came too. Though it was difficult, Harry shifted his weight enough that he removed his right hand from where it had been supporting his own body and reached between them, grabbing Tom's dick and trying to stroke it in a matching pace, but it was awkward and difficult.

Tom whined slightly and reached between them, pushing Harry's hand aside and taking over.

"Get us there on your own," he rasped before kissing Harry on the lips and letting his head fall back again. "I want to come with you. I feel… you. Just… ugh… uhnn… Harry —" he panted, incoherently, but Harry got enough of the gist and focused on getting their movements back into a solid rhythm.

Harry focused on his own climax as he felt it coming faster and faster. Closer and closer. The heat and the tight twisting pleasure deep in his balls. The need to get closer.

"Gods… oh Tom…" Harry groaned before bending down and capturing Tom's lips and giving a few more tight thrusts in. "I love you," he rasped out before grunting with the last thrust before the waves crashed over him and his entire world exploded for several brief but amazing moments. His body shook with waves of pleasure and he convulsed against Tom, finally becoming aware that Tom was moaning and shaking against him as well. Wet warmth hit Harry's stomach as the jerking of Tom's hand that had been hitting Harry's gut for the last few minutes, came to a stop and Tom's body seemed to melt back into the mattress with a satisfied sigh.

Harry collapsed forward, managing to push himself to one side, so he wouldn't crush the other.

Several moments of heavy panting followed. Then Tom's lips pressed against Harry's forehead along with a very satisfied humming sound and a happy sigh.

A moment later, Tom twisted and shifted onto his side, pushing himself up onto his shoulder, and looking over at Harry, laying beside him. Tom leaned down, capturing Harry's lips again and cupping the side of his head. Harry smiled into Tom's lips and then looked up at him happily when Tom pulled back again.

"I've never loved anyone, you know. I don't think I even knew what love really was, even before… I managed to destroy everything. I… I didn't trust anyone enough to… to love them. But you…"

Harry reached over and pressed his index finger along Tom's lips, stopping him.

"Just kiss me. And stay with me."

"All night?"

Harry nodded. Tom smiled softly down and nodded. "Okay." Tom moved down and kissed him again. Long and languid, with gentle caressing hands and tender nips and pecks.

Finally, some light clean-up was performed before Tom summoned Harry's comforter and they pulled it over the pair of them and fell asleep.

— —


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

"— rry?! Harry haven't you heard me ye…" Remus Lupin's voice cut off almost as quickly as it had suddenly appeared. The only sound in the room now was the panicked rustling of blankets and then the sudden _thump_ as Harry fell out of his bed, onto the floor, in a tangle of sheets.

"Morning, Remus," Tom said calmly, pushing himself up onto one elbow and using his other hand to hold firm on the part of sheet still covering his lower half, to prevent Harry's struggles on the floor from removing it.

Remus stared in silent shock for all of ten seconds before he heaved a great sigh and looked skywards for a moment. His moment passed and he looked back down at Tom, naked, as far as Remus could tell, and gave him a tired, yet slightly amused, look. He then shifted his gaze down to Harry who was finally managing to stand up, while also holding his part of the sheet around his waist.

"Please don't tell Sirius," were the first words out of Harry's mouth.

Remus heaved another tired sigh and shrugged his shoulders. "If I had a galleon for every time I walked in on Sirius with some bird in his bed when we were sixteen, I would have had enough to pay my Hogwarts Tuition for a year. I can hardly judge you, and he certainly has no right to do so, either. Certainly not without being a monumental hypocrite."

"You do realize we're talking about Sirius Black here, right?" Tom said, arching a single eyebrow.

Remus gave a conceding nod. "Well, true, but —"

" _Please_ Remus! You know what he's like with Tom. I just —" Harry begged.

"Don't worry, Harry, it's fine. Okay, I won't tell him. Just don't let me catch you two like this again, or I'm going to have to tell him next time," Remus warned. "Now you'd better get dressed. We've got to get to the Ministry in a half hour for the trial. I called to you a good forty minutes ago, but I'm assuming you had some sort of sound ward on the room?"

Harry grimaced and shrugged.

"Right. Well, get dressed. We leave in fifteen minutes, max."

Remus left and pulled the door shut.

A moment of silence passed before Harry let out a huge groan and fell back on the bed. Tom chuckled, earning him a glare from Harry.

"It's not funny."

"Seems fairly amusing to me," Tom grinned.

Harry scoffed and held tight to the sheet as he made his way over to the wardrobe where he kept his clothes. The sheet fell away from Tom, who just laid there and let himself be exposed. Harry glanced sideways at him and grinned almost bashfully before diverting his eyes and focusing on finding a pair of pants and some trousers.

Tom chuckled more and shook his head. "I don't see much point in you clinging to that sheet. In fact, I think I might like to see you without it."

Tom waved his hand and the sheet was suddenly tugged away from Harry, falling in a heap beside the bed.

"Hey!" Harry yelped, causing Tom to only laugh louder.

Harry gave Tom a faux glare before managing to extract some clothes from his wardrobe and getting dressed.

"Do you need to borrow anything to wear?" Harry asked.

"Hmm? Oh, I suppose so. I could just rush back home and meet you at the Ministry."

"Seems a bit tight for that. Here, I haven't even worn these yet since you forced me to buy them," Harry said, tossing a pair of pants and some black trousers towards Tom.

"I hardly _forced_ you," Tom said, rolling his eyes as he finally climbed off the bed and pulled the pants on.

Harry snorted and pulled a white t-shirt over his head.

"You're wearing a t-shirt to Sirius' trial?"

"Uh… well, it's not like _I'm_ the one on trial," Harry said, frowning with sudden uncertainty as he looked down at the shirt.

Tom shrugged as he walked over to the wardrobe and flipped through some of the shirts, looking at the options.

"Remind me to _force_ you to buy some _more_ clothes. Clearly I didn't insist on enough."

"Most of the stuff is in the laundry hamper right now," Harry mumbled.

Tom pulled out a light grey button-down shirt with a high collar and pulled it on. He glanced over himself speculatively for a moment before using his wand to lengthen the trousers an inch.

When he glanced back, Harry had switched out the t-shirt for a button down. When Tom grinned approvingly, Harry rolled his eyes.

"Come on, we'd better hurry. At this rate, I doubt we'll have time to even grab a piece of toast."

—

When they got downstairs, they discovered Tonks was sitting in the kitchen with Remus. They did manage to grab some toast, but only barely had time to eat it before the group each took the Floo to the Ministry building.

Harry fidgeted anxiously as they found themselves in a line to get into the Atrium of the Ministry, through a couple wizards with Secrecy Scopes. Harry glanced warily towards Tom as he stepped forward and let the wizard probe him with the device, while another wizard briefly examined his wand before lazily handing it back. The wizard with the probe's eyes got quite large as he laid them upon Harry. In fact, Harry was quickly drawing quite a lot of attention with his presence, which he tried desperately to ignore.

Tonks seemed to use her position as an Auror to help Remus get through the security checkpoint more quickly, which was probably good as there was already a lot of overly unwarranted paranoia around werewolves and other supposed 'Dark' creatures, given the current climate.

Once through the security checkpoint, the group rushed towards the lifts and took them down to the same level, and same room, that Harry's 'trial' the previous August had been held. They managed to squeeze in through the unexpected crowd and then to make their way inside the hall and find Mr. Weasley who was sitting in the small section of the raised seating reserved for non-Wizengamot observers, with Ron and Hermione. They had saved enough seat with them for Harry, Tom, and Tonks to sit down beside them; Mr Weasley on one end, and Tonks on the other. Remus was on the list of witnesses, so he left the group then to go wait somewhere else.

Only a few minutes passed before the hall was called to order and everyone still standing took their seats. Harry looked around the large hall of raised seats encircling a single chair down in the center of the lowest part of the room, and a shudder ran down his spine, remembering the intimidating feeling of being in that chair, from a year earlier.

The set of raised chairs at the center-front of the hall, most directly facing the defendant's chair were currently filled by Rufus Scrimgeour, Amelia Bones, and a few more wizards Harry was entirely unfamiliar with. No Fudge, and no Umbridge. For that, Harry was eternally grateful.

Amelia Bones called the session to order, and shortly thereafter, Pettigrew was brought out, hands in shackles and chains, and secured to the chair. His eyes were lined with heavy bags, and his nose was red, making him look like he was in the midst of a nasty cold. He looked absolutely miserable, and he basically cowered before the witches and wizards currently staring down at him.

"Peter Pettigrew, you are charged with aiding and abetting He Who Must Not Be Named, engaging in Death Eater activities, participating in the kidnapping of Harry Potter on the night of June the 24th of last year, the murder of eight muggles in 1981, and with framing Sirius Black for said crime. How do you plead?" Amelia Bones spoke in a firm, imperious voice.

Pettigrew shuddered and cowered in on himself even further. A small muffled noise could be heard from him, but it was entirely unintelligible.

"You must speak louder. Your plea?"

"G-guilty," he said, shaking and twitching.

A wave of hushed whispers spread throughout the hall but were quickly silenced.

"Very well. As punishment for your crimes, you are hereby sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. —"

A rush of voices came from this declaration, though there were clearly no objectors, just excitement.

"—to be carried out before the month ends."

Pettigrew broke down into tears, sniffling and sniveling in on himself.

There was quite a lot of loud and energetic discussion, and Madam Bones had to raise her wand and create a loud _crack_ and flash of light to regain control of the court. Pettigrew was taken away by a pair of aurors, still bawling as he went. A minute later and Sirius was brought out and placed in the chair. Unlike Pettigrew, Sirius sat tall and proud. He was cleanly dressed and neatly shaven, and considerably more presentable than Harry was accustomed to.

Madam Bones once again called the room to order and turned her focus on Sirius.

"Sirius Black, fifteen years ago you were apprehended on the charges of Death Eater involvement, terrorist activities, murder of eight muggles, and betrayal of James and Lily Potter to He Who Must Not Be Named. You were found guilty of these charges and sentenced to life in Azkaban Prison. In light of new evidence, you are being granted a re-trail. How do you plea to these charges?"

"Not guilty," Sirius said confidently.

"Very well," Madam Bones said with a nod of her head. Then Rufus Scrimgeour stood, drawing the galleries attention on him.

"Madam Bones, the Aurors office has arranged for a witness to testify in these proceedings," he said in his booming voice.

"Proceed," Madam Bones said.

Sirius was removed from the center chair and taken to sit at the side, flanked by two aurors. From the other side, two additional aurors appeared, leading a rather ragged looking Lucius Malfoy between them.

"Malfoy?" Tonks exclaimed in a quiet but obviously quite surprised tone. She wasn't the only one as whispers once again spread across those gathered in the hall.

Malfoy was secured to the chair.

"Your name is Lucius Malfoy, correct?" Scrimgeour asked.

"That is correct," Malfoy responded. His voice was raspy and tired, but still maintained some level of his previous pride.

"You have been convicted of being an active member in the organization known as the Death Eaters, and a servant of He Who Must Not Be named. Is this correct?" Scrimgeour continued.

"Yes."

"Did you serve He Who Must Not Be Named in the first war?"

"My father did. I was marked during that time, and many of the meetings were held in our family home, though I did not have any real opportunity to be actively involved in the Death Eaters, at the time," Malfoy responded calmly.

"Did you, at any point during that time, witness Mr Black having any involvement with the Death Eaters or He Who Must Not Be Named?"

"No. Never."

"Do you believe that he could have been working in secret with He Who Must Not Be Named, working as a spy?"

"Absolutely not."

"What makes you so sure?"

"He utterly scorned his family and anything connected to it. The Blacks were a notoriously Dark family of course, and it's already established that both Sirius Black's brother, Regulus Black, as well as his cousin and my wife's sister, Bellatrix Lestrange, became servants of the Dark Lord. Sirius _hated_ them all, and anything to do with them. He ran away from home at age 13, and moved in with James Potter and his parents. The man was loyal to a fault to those he decided deserved it. I honestly believe that he would never betray Potter. On top of that, I _lived_ in that house. I saw servants of the Dark Lord coming and going every day, but I never saw any sign of Sirius Black."

Scrimgeour nodded his head thoughtfully. "What about Peter Pettigrew? Did you ever, during any of your time with the Death Eaters, witness Pettigrew's participation in any gatherings or in direct service of He Who Must Not Be Named?"

"Yes," Lucius nodded. "I saw him once during the first war. I remember it clearly because I was sure I'd seen him before, and that he'd been a Gryffindor at Hogwarts."

"Any other time?"

"He was almost constantly by the Dark Lord's side after His resurrection last spring. He was there in the graveyard, when the rest of us were summoned. He was holding Harry Potter captive against a large stone statue."

"Thank you for your testimony. You are dismissed," Scrimgeour concluded with a wave of his hand, indicating to the aurors to take Malfoy away, which they quickly did.

Harry glanced at Sirius and saw that the man was clearly bewildered and torn in how to feel about what had just happened. On one hand, the testimony was clearly in his favor. On the other hand, _Malfoy_ had been the one to give it.

Next Remus was called to the stand. He was asked to describe how he and James Potter knew Sirius Black; asked to describe the situation with the Potters and the Fedelius charm, and then about Sirius' character in general. Finally, he was asked whether or not he believed Sirius had had anything to do with their betrayal to He Who Must Not Be Named.

"Absolutely not," Remus had said with firm certainty, shaking his head. "I've known Sirius Black since we were eleven years old, and while he's made mistakes over the years, I am positive that he would never, in a million years, have betrayed James and Lily."

"But you once believed it?" Madam Bones asked.

"I… I couldn't believe it. It felt like a tremendous betrayal, and it made absolutely no sense. But he'd said, 'I killed them,' when captured. It was a shock and I didn't know what to think."

"Why do you think he said that?"

"He blamed himself. It was his idea to use Peter as the Secret Keeper instead of himself. He talked James into it. James had just wanted to use Sirius, but Sirius said it would be smarter if he was used as a decoy instead, so if he were captured and tortured to give up their location, he literally would not be able to do it. And no one would ever expect Peter to be trusted with something so important, so no one would go after him for the information. Sirius thought it was a brilliant plan, but none of us would have ever expected Peter to be the spy."

"Very well, thank you for your testimony, Mr. Lupin," Madam Bones finished and Remus was led off the stand and out the rear door.

Finally Sirius himself was returned to the stand and asked a number of questions. He was asked about the Fidelius Charm, the role of Secret Keeper, and the plan to be a decoy, and then asked about the night of October 31st and what had happened after he left Harry with Hagrid. Sirius recounted the night and how he'd tracked Pettigrew down. He explained how Peter had lured him into a populated muggle street and then loudly accused Sirius of betraying James and Lily while _cutting off his own finger_ , before casting a Bombarda at the street, and transforming into his animagus form.

He explained how he had been left on the ground, in all the wreckage, grief stricken and crazed with anger, when the Aurors arrived. He admitted to crying out that it was all his fault, and that he'd killed them, but that it really was a result of the guilt he felt in having convinced James to use Peter as the Secret Keeper. He firmly stated that he had nothing to do with Voldemort or the Death Eaters and would have never helped them hurt James and Lily, and especially not Harry.

Finally the testimony was drawn to a close and Madam Bones called things to order.

"Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?" said Madam Bones's booming voice. Harry remembered her saying those vary words at his own trial a year earlier and felt a smile curl his lips.

All around the room, hands began to raise into the air. Far too many to count.

"And those in favor of conviction?" Madam Bones asked. This time, not a single hand was raised. "The defendant is now cleared of all charges." With that, the chains on Sirius' wrists released and clattered to the floor.

A great deal of chatter filled the hall at this declaration, and soon a number of Wizengamot members could be seen picking up their things and leaving the hall.

Sirius beamed and turned, looking up at Harry in the raised seats and gave his best roughish grin. His eyes traveled to Tom and the smile faded some, but he didn't scowl. After a brief moment of eye contact, Sirius gave Tom a curt nod, as if acknowledging, albeit reluctantly, that Tom had played a rather direct role in this whole thing happening.

Harry stood and scooted along the row of chairs and then down a center row of stairs, where he came to Sirius, who wrapped him up in a warm, excited hug.

The rest of the group joined them and soon they were all making their way out of the large double-doors and into the hall where they were met by Remus, who pulled Sirius into a large hug and joyfully congratulated him.

"Man, look at this crowd?" Ron exclaimed at one point as the group pressed against the wall, to let the people leaving the hall get passed.

Hermione looked back through the open double-doors curiously and frowned. "Not all of them are leaving, though. It looks as if about half of them are staying put. I wonder why?"

"I believe there's at least one more hearing on the docket for today," Mr. Weasley said. Something about an inmate of Azkaban appealing his sentence and making a plea bargain with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I never did hear who, though."

Harry glanced over at Tom, a single raised eyebrow, asking an unspoken question. Tom let a small grin grace his lips and made a small downward nod of his head.

Any further exchanges were abruptly interrupted by the sudden appearance of a small group of reporters, pushing their way down the hall and coming after Sirius. Sirius stood around long enough to make a few comments to the small but vocal group of journalists before Remus grabbed his arm, apologized and thanked the reporters, and dragged the group away. Mr. Weasley got them to the lifts, where, thankfully, no one outside of their immediate group managed to get in.

"Oh my, what a racket," Mr Weasley said with a laugh. "Well, I'm afraid I've got to get back to my office." He glanced at Ron and Hermione, "can I leave them with you lot — ?"

"Of course! They're more than welcome!" Sirius said, still beaming from head to toe with exuberance.

"We'll be at Grimmauld Place —" Remus started when Sirius cut him off.

"Are you completely barmy!? I'm a free man, Remus! I don't have to hide in that musty old house! I can go out and celebrate!"

"And we'll celebrate _tonight_ , Sirius," Remus said appeasingly.

"At the very least, I insist on eating out for lunch," Sirius demanded. "I will not be locked away in that awful house any longer, now that I don't have to be."

"Hey! What's wrong with _my_ house?" Harry asked, jokingly.

Sirius barked out a laugh. " _His_ house, you hear that? Well you can definitely keep it now, Harry! But whatever! I want to go out and get a _real_ meal! Ron and Hermione are more than welcome to come with us, if you're alright with that, Arthur."

Arthur hesitated and glanced over at Tonks who gave him a reassuring smile. "I'll be there, and so will Remus."

Arthur looked a little less worried at those assurances. "Well, fine."

"Yes!" Ron exclaimed, pumping his fist in the air. Hermione rolled her eyes but smiled gratefully.

"Thank you Mr. Weasley. I'll make sure we're back for supper."

"You can all come over, actually. Molly's all prepped to throw a celebratory dinner in your honor, Sirius."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Really? Never really thought she li—"

"That would be wonderful of her, Arthur, thank you!" Remus interrupted.

Arthur Weasley ended up getting off on his floor to head back to work, and then the rest of the group finished going the rest of the way up to the main level and passing through the Atrium to the parallel walls of Floo entrances.

All eyes seemed to fall upon the group, along with a few startled gasps at the sight of Sirius.

"So where to?" Remus asked after the group had all made it through security and got in queue for the Floos.

"The Leaky Cauldron!" Sirius declared jubilantly.

—

The following week involved a lot of time spent out of the house. Mrs. Weasley made a few futile objections about Harry spending so much time out and about, and _who knows who you might run into?!_ But her objections were largely ignored by Sirius, who was far more interesting in going to all the places he had wished he could go to for the last fifteen years, and taking his godson with him as often as was appropriate.

That first day out after the trial, there had been more than a few frightened reactions at Sirius' appearance, but by the following day, news of his exoneration had spread like wild fire, and they experienced fewer issues.

Tom joined them a few times, along with Ron and Hermione, but he ducked out just as many times, in order to give Harry more time with his godfather, without the unnecessary risk of irrationally foul moods. There was little doubt in Tom's mind that Sirius would much rather not be spending this time in _Voldemort's_ company. Besides, he often told Harry, he actually had a number of matters to attend to before sequestering himself away at Hogwarts, and he considered this a prime time to take care of such things.

Fortunately for Harry, foul moods were about the last thing on Sirius' mind during that week, as he spent the time generally exuberant with his newfound freedom, and enthusiastically dragging his godson all over the place, rarely spending much of the daylight hours actually in Grimmauld Place.

He also had much easier access to his bank vault now, and, at Harry's insistent, did finally spend an afternoon with Harry, down at Gringotts, getting ownership of his vault put back in his name. There was a bit of a run-around trying to prove that Sirius _wasn't dead,_ as the goblin's spells had quite certainly detected his death and pushed forth issuance of his will. But in the end, it was sorted, and Sirius was once again the owner of his family's not-insubstantial fortune.

Sirius said he was dedicated to blowing it all before he died. Then he back-peddled, and said that if Harry wanted to make sure Sirius left some of it for him, he'd make an effort towards a bit more restraint.

Harry had laughed at him, along with Remus, and let Sirius have his fun.

During the times when Sirius _didn't_ take Harry with him, or finally gave him a few hours of peace to relax a little, Tom would come to visit. Tom had started giving Harry instruction on Occlumency, and they had continued to try and spend at least some time each day, dedicated to working on the animagus spell. Both had actually gotten relatively far, though to Harry, it still seemed a long way off.

And, of course, there had been snogging; though they were a bit more cautious about it. Now that Sirius was back, any chance of him walking in on them while engaged in _intimate_ activities was too much chance at all.

The week since Sirius' exoneration had involved more than a few shopping trips, but the 'official' school supply trip was scheduled for that coming Saturday, so the Weasley's and Hermione could properly join them.

The two groups met up at the Leaky Cauldron. Mrs. Weasley along with Ginny, Ron, and Hermione arrived first followed minutes later by Sirius along with Harry, Tom, Remus, and Tonks who, Harry noticed, seemed to be spending an awful lot of her free time at Grimmauld Place lately.

Officially, she was there as extra security for Harry and his friends, but Harry couldn't help but notice how she seemed much more focused on Remus. At one point, while the bulk of them had filed into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, she even managed to drag a fairly reluctant Remus off, to get ice creme.

"Harry!" Fred and George greeted simultaneously, as he entered the bright orange store filled with any and all imaginable sorts of pranks and trinkets. Tom stayed mostly in the background, aimlessly browsing the items on sale, while the twins dragged Harry around, showing various things off to him, and insisting that anything he wanted was his, free-of-charge. When Harry objected, the twins reminded him that he had been their start-up investor, and they refused, outright, to take any of his money now.

Tom wandered over to a circular display decorated primarily in pink, and with several tiers of potions on it. Hermione came up beside him and picked up a bottle to examine it.

"It really does boggle my mind that these are legal," Tom mused with a slightly incredulous chuckle as he picked up one of the Love Potion bottles as well.

"Love potions? Why would they be illegal?" Ginny's voice broke in, sounding honestly bewildered, from where she was standing by the pigmy puff stand next to the love potions display.

"Why?" Hermione echoed almost incredulously. "Because they manipulate a person's _free will_."

"Well, the _bad_ ones aren't legal," Ginny protested.

"How, exactly, do you differentiate between the _bad_ love potions and the supposedly _not bad_ ones?" Tom asked, arching a brow at her.

"Well, I mean… these will all wear off on their own in less than a day," she said, coming over and pointing at the various potions on the stand. "Most of these won't even last more than an hour or two before wearing off."

"Oh, so a person is only under total control of another human being _for a few hours,"_ Tom said, sarcastically. "That makes it all better."

Ginny glared at him. She never had warmed up to him, but he'd had rather limited exposure to her, so it hadn't been a major issue.

"They hardly give you _total control_. I mean, this one —" she reached over and picked up a lilac colored bottle in the shape of a teardrop, "only makes a person mildly _jealous_. It's not even a proper love potion. It's just to get someone to notice you."

"Jealousy can be a tremendously dangerous emotion," Tom said warningly. "Jealousy is a powerful way to control a person."

"It seems to me that a jealousy potion could be rather dangerous," Hermione said thoughtfully. "That's the sort of thing that could lead to violence."

" _Lots_ of love potions can lead to violence," Tom said. "Love is an unpredictable and irrational emotion. Different people react in vastly different ways to feelings of betrayal, or when their _love_ is threatened by competition or perceived infidelity. There are any number of scenarios where use of a love potion can backfire horrifically on people. So even beyond the immorality of controlling another person's emotions and free will, there's also the huge risk of unforeseen consequences. They're just tremendously dangerous, for all parties involved. Like I said before, I really am astounded that they're even legal."

"I agree completely," Hermione said with a firm downward nod of her head.

Ginny looked unimpressed before huffing out a breath and rolling her eyes skyward. "You two just don't see it the way _we_ do since you were both raised in the muggle world. It's not nearly as terrible as you make it out to be."

"Oho?" Tom said, an air of amusement in his tone. "So my opinion is discounted because of my time with the _muggles?"_ He chuckled lightly.

Ginny's frown deepened. "I don't see why _that's_ so funny."

"It's nothing. Anyway, just don't let your father or mother hear you say something like that. Suggesting that muggle origins leave a witch or wizard any less valid or equal than the rest of you could get you booted from the blood traitor club."

Ginny's face went deep red and her eyes practically burned up with indignation. "What are you suggesting?!"

"The world is supposed to be black and white, right? Either everyone is equal all the time, or one group is superior all the time and the other inferior," Tom said sarcastically. "Daring to suggest that the world is made of shades of grey is blasphemy!"

Ginny looked almost as _bewildered_ as she did angry.

She made a frustrated noise in her throat, turned her head, flipping her hair around dramatically, before storming off with a " _Whatever_ ," dismissive, parting comment.

Tom chuckled and shook his head, watching her storm off before turning and seeing Hermione looking at him curiously.

"What exactly did you mean by that?"

"What, the world being black and white, thing?"

She nodded.

"Oh, just this tendency people have to make every issue a matter of 'us versus them'. How things have to have clean divisions, and taking specific matters into consideration are frowned upon in favor of over-simplifications."

Hermione's eyes widened, and it was clear she was interested, if not entirely sure what he was getting at.

"For example - Ginny's suggestion that our upbringing puts us into a position where we don't understand the magical community's general opinion on the dangers of Love Potions. Their flippant disregard for the dangers of love potions is a 'cultural thing.' Her suggestion is that, not having grown up immersed in that culture, puts us into a position where we _just don't get it._

"But then there are those that would object to such a suggestion on principle because it's like suggesting that muggleborn and muggle-raised witches and wizards inherently lack an understanding, or capacity for understanding of an issue, in contrast to _true wizards_ , who grew up in this world. Basically, it's very closely broaching on certain ideals that the more progressive wizards would find highly offensive without taking the time to consider whether or not there's any validity to the assertion.

"Those that the are often called 'Purebloods', politically, having a more 'conservative' ideal set, and those often called 'Bloodtraitors' having the more 'progressive' set of ideals. The two sides like to draw clean cut lines, and anytime someone from one side, toes that line, they're in danger of breaking ranks. The true problem is that Ginny does have a point. Being raised immersed in a culture _does_ effect the way a person looks at the world. A tradition from one culture can seem perfectly reasonable to those raised within that culture, while seeming ludicrous to someone from another. The wizarding world often lacks rational logic, and while it doesn't feel like much to me now, eleven solid years solely in the muggle world was enough to give me perspective on that often irrational behavior that a wizard-raised person would not.

"You and I _do_ have a different perspective than a witch or wizard raised entirely within this isolated community. We _are_ inherently different. You can acknowledge that fact without making it about one group being inferior to the other. The problem is that the two sides can't agree on that. The conservatives insist we're vastly different, and anyone contaminated by muggle influence is inferior. The progressives insist that we're all equal, no matter what, and any suggestion to the contrary is met with scorn. _Even when it's actually true._ Am I making any sense or am I just rambling?"

"No, I get it. It's a very astute observation," Hermione said, nodding. "You've really put a lot of thought into it, haven't you?"

"It's an issue I've had to do a lot of soul-searching on lately," Tom said ambiguously. "But the truth of the matter is that I'd like to go into politics someday."

"Really? That's really interesting. Not what I would have expected, though," Hermione mused.

"Oh?"

"Well, I just sort of thought you might go for something more academic. You seem to absorb information like a sponge."

Tom grinned and shrugged. "Knowledge is a means to an end for me. Some people seek knowledge for knowledge's sake. I seek knowledge because of what I might one day be able to do with it."

"Hm," Hermione hummed thoughtfully, nodding slowly.

A moment of silence passed while Hermione examined another of the ornate glass bottles on the love potion display before she apparently decided on her next words.

"I did look up what you said about House Elves."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. It's been a… well, something of a crusade for me, ever since I discovered their existence. You know, it's sort of like, even for all the stubborn insistence wizards have for keeping house elves enslaved, they still know that there is something _wrong_ with it, because they're kept so _secret_. Even the house elves at Hogwarts! You'd never know they were there at all, if you didn't try really hard and really pay attention. I was in my forth year before I really even understood very much about house elves…. well, that's besides the point, I suppose. I _did_ read up on what you said; about their magic degenerating and requiring a wizard's magic to stabilize it."

"And?"

Hermione frowned in a way that bordered on a pout and sighed. "And it seems to be true. But I can't help but think that there has got to be a better way to save them. Surely with all of the advancement that's happened in the _thousand years_ since the bonds started, our knowledge and understanding of magic has grown enough that we should be able to help them without _enslaving them_. I just don't think anyone has bothered to even _look_ at the problem in hundreds of years. It's like it's a foregone conclusion that house elves have to be slaves. No one _questions_ it. And the house elves themselves are so deeply brainwashed by the idea that they're terrified to even consider any alternative!"

"Hmm…" Tom hummed nodding thoughtfully. "Well, it certainly is worth looking into. You've probably got a point. I doubt anyone has even taken a look at the problem in ages, and there's no questioning that there's been considerable advances in magic in the countless years since the bonding process was first initiated."

"I've already tracked down a couple books that discuss what happened to the house elves, but the details seem a little… sparse."

"Bring them with you the next time we're both at Grimmauld Place. We'll go over them together."

Hermione's face brightened and she nodded enthusiastically. "That'd be fantastic! I'll definitely bring them along."

"I'll skim through the book store for anything that looks like it could be useful, once we get in there."

"I will too!"

"Hey, what are you two up to?"

Tom turned to look over his shoulder and smiled at Harry, standing there, and looking rather loaded down a large bag of items from Fred and George's inventory.

"Nothing much," Tom said, shrugging.

"Tom has promised to help me look into the enslavement of the House Elves!" Hermione announced enthusiastically.

Harry's eyebrows raised into his forehead a bit and he looked over at Tom with a rather dubious 'are you serious?' sort of look.

Tom shrugged and smiled.

"You look rather loaded down," Tom replied aloud instead.

Harry rolled his eyes skyward and huffed. "Yeah, they wouldn't let me go without unloading this lot on me. I was about to successfully refuse when Ron came along and insisted I take them. Fred and George won't give him a discount or anything, so I think he's trying to go through me instead. I don't even know what I'm going to do with half this stuff."

"You want me to shrink it down for you?"

"Could you?"

Tom grinned and nodded, pulling out his wand and motioning for Harry to set the package down.

"It really is quite impressive, what the twins have managed to do with this place in such a short time," Tom mused, looking around, several moments later.

Harry smiled and nodded. "Yeah, it really is. It's loud and garish, but I love it. It's fun - you know?"

Tom chuckled. "Not generally my sort of atmosphere, but I can certainly appreciate the accomplishment. It's also undeniable that the twins really are very talented. Brilliant and inventive minds. Granted, they're putting that brilliance towards a rather immature purpose, but that doesn't really devalue it any."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Is that what they call a back-handed compliment?"

Tom smiled and ducked his head, chuckling slightly before giving Harry a conceding shrug. "I suppose it probably does qualify as that… I'm sorry."

"No, no," Harry said, chuckling and shaking his head. "Don't apologize. I just think it's funny. It's very… you."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Harry!" Ron said in a urgent, hushed voice, as he rushed over and grabbed Harry by the shoulder.

"Huh? What?" Harry asked, caught off guard.

"You've gotta see who's out there!" he said, dragging Harry out by his upper arm.

Harry frowned in confusion, looking between Tom and then back to Ron who was now dragging him towards the front door.

Harry turned, allowing himself to be hauled off and Tom and Hermione quickly followed.

"Look!" Ron said in a hushed tone as he got to the door and pointed across and down the Alley.

Harry turned and looked down the road with Tom and Hermione doing the same.

Hermione gasped.

"Oh…" Harry said, sounding much less surprised and much more resigned.

"How is that possible?" Hermione asked, looking between the group down the street and Harry. "You… don't look surprised," she said, slowly.

"Lucius Malfoy's sentence was commuted the same day that Sirius was found innocent," Tom answered, instead, drawing Ron and Hermione's gazes.

"What!?" Ron exclaimed

"How? _Why!?"_ Hermione moaned.

Harry heaved a sigh. "Well… part of it, was his testimony for Sirius…"

"No way!?" Ron exclaimed.

"But most of it was the dozen Ministry workers who were under the Imperius curse whose names he gave to the Ministry, so they could be freed from it," Tom continued.

Ron scoffed. "So he ransomed off the names of Imperius victims for his freedom?"

Tom shrugged, opting not to pursue the conversation any further than that. He looked back down the road to where Lucius Malfoy was walking with his wife Narcissa, and their son Draco. Lucius still showed signs from his stay in Azkaban. There were heavy bags beneath his eyes, and his face was more deeply lined than was usual. He looked tired and worn, and he didn't carry himself with nearly as much pride as was usual. His head wasn't held hide, and his face was not graced with that untouchable confidence that was ever present before now. Six weeks in a cell surrounded by Dementors was apparently more than enough to wear him down, but given his body language as he ducked around people on the street, Tom suspected there was more to it than just that.

There were more than a few people giving him nasty glares. The average denizens of Diagon Alley were a mix between fear and loathing. He was, after all, a convicted Death Eater. It was public knowledge that he'd been involved in the Ministry attack, but it was not yet public knowledge why he'd been released.

On the other side, Tom could see a few wizards standing near the entrance to Knockturn Alley glaring in Lucius' direction, no doubt angry because they _had_ heard why Lucius had been released.

Either way, Lucius looked like a traitor. From one vantage point, he'd joined up with the Dark Lord and tried to go after Harry Potter. From the other, he'd betrayed the Death Eaters and the Dark Lord to get himself out of Azkaban.

And if he should step one toe out of line now, he'd probably end up right back in there, so any public altercations could be disastrous. Tom was honestly rather surprised that Lucius was even out in public.

In contrast, Draco Malfoy's head was held high and he looked quite smug and pleased with the world. No doubt he was quite thrilled to have his father back. Tom wondered if he actually understood the risk in going out in public like this, and suspected he probably didn't.

The three Malfoys turned and ducked into Twilfitt and Tattings, disappearing from view.

"I can't _believe_ he got off!" Ron growled angrily, shaking his head in disgust and turning back into Fred and George's shop. Hermione made a similarly upset sound and followed him with Harry sighing and turning to follow her. Tom reached out and gently grabbed Harry's upper arm, causing him to stop and turn back curiously.

"Are you alright?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "I knew he was out. It's hardly a surprise."

"He _did_ attack you and your friends that night… you're so… forgiving with… other things, I sometimes forget the trauma you suffered at his hands as well… I know —"

"It's fine. Really," Harry said, cutting him off.

"I know you hate Lucius… I just —"

"And you _don't_ hate him. And that's okay," Harry gave Tom a soft, reassuring smile and reached out to lay his hand on Tom's shoulder. "You want to be loyal to those who have helped you. I can hardly be angry at you for trying to do what you think is _right_. Lucius Malfoy might be a giant arse but you really do have a point. He doesn't deserve _life_ in Azkaban for following orders when his family would have ended up dead if he'd refused."

Tom gave Harry a grateful smile and reached up, letting his fingers slide into Harry's hair. He nearly leaned in to kiss Harry when he remembered himself and stopped suddenly, pulling back and ducking his head awkwardly.

"Sorry, I nearly…"

Harry chuckled and pushed forward, pressing his lips against Tom's, angling his head and getting deeper, despite Tom's utter astonishment.

Harry pulled back and smiled warmly at the still dumbstruck Tom.

Tom seemed to break out of his shock and looked around catching at least three different people staring before he looked back at Harry who was still smiling.

"I… Harry, are you sure that was… wise?" Tom sputtered out.

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "Well, I know that Sirius went into the Twins' back workroom a few minutes ago and he's not back out yet, so there's no worry there. As for everyone else, right now, they all want to call me the _Chosen One_ , and everyone in the media and stuff is trying to kiss my arse to make up for all the rubbish they printed over the last year thanks to Fudge and his propaganda machine. If ever there's a time when I think I can get away with publicly coming out, it's _now_.

"If I try to keep it secret, who knows when it'll actually come out. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that public opinion is like a roller coaster. They can love you one day and hate you the next. If this came out when they hated me, they'd just use it to do all sorts of slander, but if I make it old news before the next time they decide to label me public enemy, it might not be so bad then."

"Harry… that's incredibly astute. I'm rather impressed."

Harry guffawed. "Are you saying I'm not _usually_ smart enough to come up with something like that?"

Tom's eyes went wide and he had the expression of a deer suddenly caught in headlights. "No! Uh, I just meant —"

Harry cut him off, laughing and moved in for another quick peck on Tom's cheek before turning back into the store, dragging a flustered Tom behind him.

Another ten minutes passed before the group gathered again, finishing up their shopping in the Twins' shop and made their way to their next destination.

After a stop to get new school robes for everyone, and a trip to the stationary store to stock up on parchment and quills, they came to the apothecary for potions supplies. Ginny headed right in and Hermione was about to go in as well, but Ron lingered and eyed the Broomstix shop across the alley.

"Hey, Harry - since you and I won't be taking Potions, how about we head over there while the girls get their potions stuff?"

"Are you calling me one of the girls?" Tom asked, arching an amused brow in Ron's direction.

Ron flushed and sputtered. "What?! No! I uh… I didn't —

Harry laughed and patting Ron on the shoulder, trying to calm him down.

Tom chuckled as well and waved Ron's concerns away with his hand. "I'm just teasing you. Actually, didn't Harry tell you about Slughorn?"

"What?" Ron asked, looking confused.

"Slughorn - wasn't that the teacher Professor Dumbledore had you convince to come to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, that's right," Harry nodded.

"Oh, right… yeah you mentioned that guy," Ron said, remembering Harry telling he and Hermione about his unexpected trip, the day before Sirius' trial. "What does that have to do with all this, though?"

"Slughorn isn't a Defense teacher," Tom explained. "He's a potions master."

Ron's face twisted up in clear confusion. "Then why would Dumbledore want to bring him on to teach the defense post?"

"He _doesn't_ Ron," Hermione said with mild exasperation. She turned her focus back on Tom then. "Are you saying that the new teacher is going to be taking _Snape's_ position?"

Ron's eyes lit up. "Snape's going!?"

Harry heaved a sigh. "No, Ron. He's getting the Defense post."

Ron's face fell instantly.

"Oh _no!_ " he groaned.

"That's what _I_ said," Harry grumbled.

"Well, Slughorn doesn't require an Outstanding on your O.W.L.S. to get into his Advanced Potion Making class. There's no reason you can't take potions this year with him teaching it," Tom explained, causing Ron to look even more distraught.

The whole group made their way into the apothecary after that, with Mrs. Weasley waiting out front for Remus and Tonks to return while Sirius went inside with the others.

"I suppose you're probably already all stocked up on this stuff," Ron mused to Tom as he collected a few extra items from out of bins on a tall aisle divider along the middle of the shop, off to the left of the front counter where the others waited for the apothecary to bring out four of the standard student kits for Advanced Potion Making, and one of the OWL year kits for Ginny.

"Hm?" Tom asked absently.

"You know - since you brew to make extra money, right?"

"Oh, yes, I suppose. Although I stick to a few specialized potions specifically because of their demand and profitability, and they don't exactly line up with the standard class kit."

"Oh," Ron said, absently as he twisted up his nose and frowned at the store at large. "I hate potions," he said glumly.

Tom chuckled sympathetically. "That could be more related to the class's teacher, rather than the subject matter itself. You could very well end up enjoying the class somewhat with a different professor."

Ron twisted up his mouth, looking rather doubtful.

"What'cha getting?" Harry asked, coming over to join Tom and Ron, looking at Tom curiously.

"Just picking up a few ingredients for brewing a couple specific antidote potions," Tom mused, picking up and examining a jar with some blackish mushroom-looking things inside it.

"Antidotes?" Harry asked.

"For love potions," Tom said distractedly. "Seeing them so casually for sale in the Twin's shop managed to trigger my paranoia."

Harry's eyes widened and he grimaced. "Ugh… yeah…"

"Potter," a startled voice greeted them suddenly as a figure appeared from the back of the aisle they were standing at the end of.

"Malfoy!" Harry said in surprise, nearly taking a step back from the display, he was so caught off guard. "I didn't know you were in here."

"I was in the back," Draco Malfoy said distractedly.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Ron snapped.

Draco stood up straighter and scowled at Ron. "Nothing, I'm _shopping_."

"Well why don't you finish up and get out?" Ron said.

"Ron," Harry said in a warning tone.

"I can shop where I want, Weasley. I hardly need your permission," Draco drawled.

Ron went to open his mouth again, but Harry's arm came out and rest against Ron's arm, causing him enough pause to stop whatever he might have said. Instead, Ron just glared at Malfoy in silence.

"Come on," Harry said to Ron, motioning to pull him away.

"Wait," Draco said, catching Harry off guard.

"What?"

"I…" Draco hesitated, looking entirely uncomfortable. "I wanted to congratulate you on your godfather's acquittal."

Harry blinked at Draco for a silent minute, as if waiting for the punch line, or the insult, but none came.

"Er… thanks. Uh… congrats on your dad, I guess," Harry said, not sounding tremendously sincere.

Draco's face showed a trace of pleasure at the reminder of his father's freedom but he cleared his throat and masked it an instant later. His eyes then fell on Tom and curiosity filled them.

"Who's this?"

Tom stepped forward and offered out his hand. "I'm Thomlyn Moore," he greeted simply.

Draco accepted it hesitantly, but then shook Tom's hand firmly enough.

"Draco Malfoy," Draco replied, watching Tom with a keen eye for any reaction. Tom gave him none.

"You don't go to Hogwarts," Draco stated more than actually asked.

"I didn't. But I will be now. Transferring in this coming term."

Draco's brow raised with curiosity, but he didn't say anything else as his mother suddenly appeared at the door to the store, looking rather frazzled and followed closely with Sirius, Remus and Tonks. Her eyes landed on Draco and relief filled them.

"Draco dear, are you done? We need to go," she said.

"Yes, mother," Draco replied quickly. He turned back to Potter and seemed to shuffle uncomfortably for a moment as if he wasn't sure how to proceed. "Potter, it was… nice, seeing you." he said awkwardly, giving Harry a polite dip of his head before making his way to the counter and setting down several small jars and vials. The apothecary was still busy assembling the kits, but his assistant appeared from behind a beaded curtain and went over to Malfoy to ring up his purchases. Narcissa Malfoy looked to be putting up a valiant effort to look calm and as confident as ever, but she couldn't entirely mask how uncomfortable she clearly was with the eyes of Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Mrs. Weasley, all trained on her and her son.

As soon as Draco had finished with his purchase, she quickly shuffled him out of the store without so much as making eye contact with anyone else there.

"Hmph. Well, that was weird," Ron said, frowning at the door.

"Weird barely covers it. He was practically _polite,"_ Hermione said.

Ron made a snorting sound and looked towards Harry. "' _Congrats on your dad?'_ What was that about?"

"I don't know!" Harry said defensively. "He caught me so off guard with that thing about Sirius I didn't know how else to respond."

Ron rolled his eyes and managed to get distracted by Hermione, leaving Harry and Tom alone for a moment. Harry glanced over as he heard Tom snicker lightly.

"I'd totally forgotten that I'd told Draco to try and be nice to you," Tom muttered quietly.

Harry looked both incredulous and confused. "You what? When?"

"One of the times I went over to the Malfoy's as my _other_ self."

Harry ducked in closer, speaking directly into Tom's ear. "Are you saying that _Voldemort_ told Malfoy to be _nice_ to me? What the hell?"

"What I actually told him was to show you that he could be human and not just some two-dimensional bully."

"Why?!"

Tom shrugged. "Not really sure what inspired me to do it. He caught me by surprise late at night when I was raiding their family library for books on the Hallows. I suppose I just wanted to give you one less thing to deal with this year. It seems like he's always managed to give you such grief."

"But why does _he_ think that _Voldemort_ would want him to be nice to me all of a sudden?"

"I believe I spun it to give him the impression that I'm _wooing you to the Dark Side_ and I didn't want him screwing up my efforts by being an asshole."

"Are you _out of your mind?_ " Harry hissed incredulously.

"Hey, what are you two doing? The kits are ready!" Ron called over, drawing their attention.

"Uh, yeah, be right over," Harry called back before turning and glaring back at Tom insistently.

"It's not that big of a deal, Harry."

"What happens if Snape or Dumbledore goes traipsing through Malfoy's head and see that _The Dark Lord_ told him that he was _wooing Harry Potter_ to the dark side?" Harry whispered in a rush as they very slowly made their way towards the rest of the group.

"They won't be able to. Draco is a remarkably skilled Occlumense - especially considering his age, but he could easily go up against any trained adults."

Harry paused and frowned. "Okay, but what about his behavior? He's gonna be acting all weird - he _was_ just acting all weird. Won't that draw some attention? And what if he just _tells someone_. He could let it slip while showing off or something equally idiotic."

Tom shrugged. "We'll deal with it if it becomes a problem. I'm not honestly concerned about it. I'm far more concerned with Severus than Draco Malfoy."

Harry rolled his eyes dramatically and heaved a frustrated sigh.

The group finished up quickly enough after that and made their way through their remaining stops in the Alley before having a quick meal at the Leaky Cauldron and parting ways for their respective homes.

Harry invited Tom back to Grimmauld Place, to the silent disapproval of Sirius, but Tom gently refused, saying he had some things to take care of.

Harry gave him a questioning look, but the dismissive silence was enough to tell him it wasn't something easily discussed in public and let it go for the time being.

Harry, Sirius, and Remus took the Leaky Cauldron's Floo back to Grimmauld Place, the Weasley's and Hermione went back to the Burrow, and Tonks paused, as if waiting for Tom to take the Floo as well.

"Oh, I'll be apparating to my home," Tom corrected as her expectations became obvious.

"Ah, yeah, me to, actually. Wanna join me to the apparition point?"

Tom grinned and bowed his head and offered up his arm like a proper gentleman. "It would be my pleasure."

Tonks giggled and rolled her eyes at him as she took his arm and the pair went back out the back garden entrance to the Alley and to the small offshoot road to the left that was the generally accepted 'apparition entrance' for the alley.

"So are you having any luck with Remus?" Tom asked conversationally.

"Wot?" Tonks replied, clearly caught off guard by the question.

Tom smirked at her. "I know you fancy him. He fancies you back, but he appears to be a rather stubborn fool on the matter. Let me guess - he's hung up on the age disparity?"

"Merlin! How'd you pick up on all that? And here I thot we were keepin things quiet!"

Tom chuckled and shrugged. "I like to pride myself on my observation skills. I try to notice the things most people gloss over."

Tonks laughed and shook her head before sighing a bit. "You really think he fancies me back?"

Tom guffawed. " _That_ much is obvious."

Her face brightened a bit with hope. "Really?"

"Yes."

She smiled for a moment before her face fell and she shrugged. "Well, whether or not he does, doesn't seem to make much of a difference. He's a stubborn one, that Remus."

"You two are - what? Fifteen years apart?"

" _Twelve!"_

"That's even better! You're an adult, he's an adult. What difference does it make beyond that? Tell him I said he's being an idiot."

Tonks laughed and smiled sadly at Tom. "Unfortunately, I think he's hung up on more than just the age thing."

"Ah… the werewolf thing, then?"

She nodded and sighed.

"That really is unfortunate," Tom mused coming to a stop and leaning against a brick wall beside the apparition point. "He's a good man. I like Remus. I like him a whole hell of a lot more than Sirius. Honestly, I think James Potter would have done better to make Remus the godfather of his son, not even taking into account the false imprisonment that he never could have foreseen."

"The Ministry never would 'ave let Remus gain custody of Harry," Tonks said regretfully. "I sort of wish he'd tried though. He'd make a good dad."

Tom smiled sadly. "I can only imagine how differently things might have played out, had he tried. Though, honestly, it probably wouldn't have been good for Remus. You're right about the Ministry not being keen on letting a werewolf have custody of the Boy Who Lived, but I think it's Dumbledore who would have given Remus the most trouble, had he tried."

Tonks frowned in confusion. "Oh? What do you mean by that?"

Tom waved her off. "Oh, nevermind me. Just the random wanderings of a mind that never wants to rest. I really ought to be getting home. I've got a few projects in the works that need some tending to, and I'm coming up on a time-sensitive portion of a brew."

"Ah, well, then you'd best be off. It was nice talkin' to ya Tom."

"The pleasure was all mine," Tom said, stepping away from the wall and making a sweeping bow towards Tonks, earning him another chuckle. He walked into the small open space, spun on the spot and vanished with a soft crack.

— —


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Tom was on his knees in his work room, panting heavily. He reached up and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm before pushing himself to his feet and staggering from to a worktable against the wall where he'd prepared the necessary tools for the dark magic cleansing ritual. He went through the motions, gritting his teeth against the pain with each increasingly unpleasant step.

It was just as bad as the last time, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that he really ought not have another reason to do this for quite some time. Finally, with the bulk of the unpleasantness complete, he turned to examine the results of his efforts.

It was entirely hideous, but that was exactly as it was supposed to look, so it was honestly a success. He couldn't see a single bit of this lifeless husk that didn't perfectly resemble the pathetic man it would soon be replacing.

The soulless body laying on the floor of his workroom, was a perfect copy of Peter Pettigrew. He'd been preparing it ever since he'd first imperiod Peter to turn himself in, even though at the time he could only guess what method the Ministry would eventually choose as punishment for Peter's crimes. When they'd declared the Dementor's Kiss as the punishment, it had actually been the most convenient outcome.

Tom had yet to discuss this particular action with Harry in any detail. It had been touchy enough discussing Lucius' release, and Lucius had only barely had an effect on Harry's life. Peter… well, Peter's impact was significantly more substantial.

Tom actually agreed that Peter deserved to be punished for what he did. However, Peter was the single largest reason Tom was able to walk about in a body, and that was something he simply could not ignore.

Pettigrew had sworn his allegiance to Tom… Well, he'd sworn his allegiance to _Voldemort_ , but Tom couldn't help but still feel responsible to anyone who had done such a thing. He had been _their Lord,_ and they had been his _servants_. A Lord was responsible for the safety of his servants. He owed them his protection. That was how it was supposed to work. As Voldemort, his acknowledgement of this responsibility had clearly fallen to the wayside, but he couldn't find it in himself to continue to ignore it now, just because everything had changed.

Hell, part of Tom still felt bad enough that part of him still wanted to break Crabbe, Avery, Jugson, Macnair, and Nott, out of Azkaban. Dolohov, the Lestrange brothers, and Mulciber had been captured at the Ministry as well, of course, but they had been in Azkaban before all this, and broken out the previous December. Tom still felt a level of responsibility for them as well, but they were out of their damn minds, and he really didn't want any of them loose in the world.

Of course he wasn't at all sold on the idea of getting _all_ of them out, but Crabbe and Nott would probably be the only two he'd legitimately consider, seeing as how they both had young children. Nott's wife had died a number of years ago, and Tom wasn't even sure who the man's son had ended up with since then.

It was something that didn't sit well with him, at all.

Still, he wasn't sure how Harry would react to the idea of him doing even this one act of saving Peter, so he'd been dancing around the subject a bit.

Pettigrew's execution — er, _Kiss —_ would be held in the Ministry and there would be people who saw him directly before he received the kiss who would then transport his body to St. Mungo's where it would remain under their care until it withered away from a lack of soul, and finally died off on its own, and those people would probably notice a body switch if it weren't a good solid match so he'd put a decent amount of effort into this doppelgänger.

Tom honestly didn't know why the Ministry bothered with the Mungo's business, though. They should just man-up and give a proper death sentence. Whoever thought that a Kiss was a more humane punishment than killing them outright, was clearly an idiot who didn't understand just what it meant to be Kissed by a dementor. He supposed they just didn't want to have to pin anyone specific with the prisoner's death. This way the only responsible party was the dementor, who obviously didn't have any problems with it, and they weren't _technically_ killing the prisoner anyway, so…

Yes, utterly idiotic.

Then again, Tom also knew that this arrangement was part of how the Ministry got the Dementor's to cooperate with them. Give them the occasional soul to munch on to keep them vaguely happy.

Speaking of which, Tom knew that the Dementors would start to back out on their commitment to him when it became clear he wasn't going to be feeding them muggles anymore. But they owed him a backlog. Every Infiri he'd made in the last war had been created as part of his wooing the Dementors. Countless homeless muggles… drifters, prostitutes, other assorted dredges of society that few or no one would have missed should they disappear. He'd gathered them up in swathes, let the Dementors suck them dry, and then converted their corpses into his personal army of the undead.

And then promptly stored a solid batch of them in that bloody cave to protect his locket…

Tom shuddered at the memory of both the cave, and what he'd had to do there.

At least they were gone now.

Tom took a few minutes to check on the empty Pettigrew he had created. His plan for getting it in, and Peter out, was already all laid out and ready. All that was left now was for the Ministry to set an official date for the Kiss to be administered. The body would be held in stasis until then, and he supposed he should take this time to make a final decision over whether or not to make plans for Nott and Crabbe.

Maybe he'd wait to get either of them out until after the school term had started. He could slip out some night… it's not like it would be that hard to leave the school grounds for an evening, undetected.

He heaved a tired sigh and dragged himself out of his work room and let himself collapse on his preferred armchair in the sitting room.

He'd been sitting there long enough that he'd started to drift off to sleep when an unexpected voice drew him back to consciousness.

" _Tom? Hey, Tom? Is this a bad time?"_

Tom blinked blearily for a moment before his eyes were drawn down to the watch on his wrist where Harry's voice had originated.

He reached down and pressed the button to send sound back.

"No, it's fine. I'm here," Tom spoke into the empty room as he went back to relaxing in the chair.

" _Can I come over? Or, er… can you come get me?"_

Tom frowned slightly in concern. "Is something wrong?"

" _No, I guess I'm just bored. I'm the only one here and the house is too empty."_

"Where are Sirius and Remus?"

" _Remus is off on some assignment for the Order. Sirius went out to a strip club. He said he was going to a book club, but I'm not an idiot."_

Tom snorted. "Book club? He honestly claimed he was going to a _book club? And at this hour?_ "

" _It was a really pathetic excuse. Super obvious that he was just making it up on the spot."_

Tom chuckled and shook his head in bemusement. "I could just come over there, you know. You don't have come here."

" _We're always over here, and I'm honestly kind of sick of the place. I'd like to get out."_

"Want to go out somewhere?"

" _It's kind of late, isn't it? What would still be open this late anyway?"_

"Well… you do have a point, I suppose…"

" _Is there some reason you don't want me over there?"_ Harry asked, sounding slightly concerned.

Tom sighed and grimaced, glancing down the hallway to the open doorway into his work room.

"Well… No, I suppose. There are just some things I've been working on that I've been meaning to talk to you about, I just hadn't quite found the right time to do it. I suppose now is as good a time as any."

" _Uhm… should I be worried?"_

Tom chuckled weakly. "No… well, I hope not. I'll be over in a minute and bring you back here."

—

Harry grimaced as he peered into the large glass cylindrical container in Tom's workroom, filled with a orangish liquid and a floating, naked, body that looked exactly like Wormtail.

"That's disgusting."

"It looked worse a few days ago," Tom said.

"That's horrifying," Harry said, curling his lip in disgust. "So was this your plan the whole time with Pettigrew?"

"From the start, yes," Tom said with a nod as he sat on one of the stools around his large work table.

"Why not say so?" Harry asked, turning and looking at him curiously.

Tom fidgeted nervously. "I… wasn't sure how you'd feel about it. Honestly, I think I might even owe the man a life debt of some form for all that he's done for me. I don't contest that Peter deserves to be punished. I just… can't…"

"Abandon someone who saved your life?" Harry offered up.

Tom heaved out a heavy breath and nodded. "He was loyal. He came for me when no one else did. His motives for doing it were far from noble, that's unquestionable. He didn't do it because he wanted to save me, but because he hoped I would protect him… he saved me, so I would protect him. That's the fundamental truth. And I… I just can't —"

"It's okay, Tom," Harry said gently. "I can't blame you for wanting to be loyal to someone who saved you."

Tom bent his head, looking primarily at his lap. "He destroyed your life because of me. I made him do it, but he's the one who made it all possible… I —"

"Tom - if I can forgive you, and do all of this…" Harry paused and sighed, shrugging somewhat helplessly, "well, I can't very well… I don't know. I mean, I'm never going to forgive _him_ … I'm just not. Everything that he did… with my parents, and with Sirius… I hate him. I really do. And unlike you, _he_ hasn't changed any. I don't know how I feel about all of this but I also see… for you, this _need_ you have to save them, it's a good thing. I see that. Voldemort would have never given a damn about Lucius Malfoy ending up in Azkaban, or Pettigrew being sentenced to the Kiss, or any of the others still stuck in Azkaban. If they weren't useful to him anymore, he'd have thrown them away without a second thought. But it bothers _you_. That _means something_."

Tom looked up and smiled softly at Harry before chuckling and shaking his head. "You are insanely accepting of this. You have the right to be angry about it Harry, really you do. You even have the right to ask me not to do it."

Harry sat straighter and shook his head. "I won't do that. Like I said… this is a _good_ sign. It may be a shitty person that you're trying to save, but you're doing it for the right reasons."

Tom sighed but smiled. "You are far too good of a person. It's unreasonable for any person to be that self-sacrificing."

"It's hardly self-sacrificing," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I want you to be a better person. So this is good. Sirius is free and the world knows that Pettigrew was the traitor. I can be satisfied with that. Although I do have to wonder what's going to happen with Pettigrew after you rescue him."

Tom ducked his head but then looked up at Harry with a sly smirk. "I was thinking of trapping him in his animagus form. It's not like he can't survive that way. He did it for more than a decade, just fine."

Harry coughed out a laugh. "Well… I think I can be okay with that. I'm not sure how I feel about there being any chance of him ending up as someone's pet again. In retrospect, it's really creepy to think about him being there in our dorm room while we slept and dressed and everything."

"Any potential for creepy voyeurism aside, I think the torment he received at the hands of the Weasley Twins, not to mention Ron's frequently failed attempts at magic using him as his personal guinea pig, as it were, made the experience far from enjoyable for him."

Harry snickered and shrugged. "Yeah, I can't argue with that. Yeah, fine. How about I just keep away from this thing all together? The less I know the better."

Tom frowned. "I'm not sure that's the best approach for this. Keeping you in the dark is keeping secrets. I don't want to keep secrets from you."

"You were keeping it from me up until now," Harry said, giving Tom a slightly pointed look.

Tom cringed sheepishly. "Yes, well, that was probably more of delaying the inevitable out of fear, but I am fully aware that keeping this, or _anything_ , a secret, is just playing with fire. It's not a risk I'm really willing to take, especially when trust is such a tentative thing between the two of us. But… well, I was scared of your reaction — which is pathetic, but I suppose the only thing I really fear anymore is this.. _thing_ with you going bad, so…"

"Tom," Harry said gently, reaching over and running his fingers through the hair on the side of Tom's head. "That's… weirdly sweet." He sighed and stepped back, leaning against the large work table. "Okay, secrets are bad. That's definitely true. Yeah, okay, keep me up to date on this stuff. Holding any of it back would probably cause problems later. But… don't be so afraid to tell me in the first place, okay? If I've got a problem with something, we can work it out."

Tom smiled and nodded, taking a step forward, leaving little space for Harry between him and the table. "Have I said I love you recently?"

Harry smiled widely. "Not since last night."

"Not recent enough," Tom said, pushing forward and kissing Harry passionately, wrapping his arms around Harry's back and pulling him closer. Harry moaned and wrapped his arms around Tom's shoulders, holding him as much to pull him closer as to maintain his own balance.

Tom reached down and grabbed Harry's bum and with one heave, lifted him up so he was sitting on the table. He reached forward and pulled Harry's t-shirt up and over his head and began kissing his way along Harry's collarbone and chest. Harry's breathing was heaving and his head fell back as the heat of Tom's exploring hands moved all around his back and shoulders.

Harry's head lulled up and his eyes opened enough that he grimaced and put a hand on Tom's shoulder, causing him to pause and look up questioningly.

"Not here," Harry said with a twisted up expression as he looked over Tom's shoulder and nodded his head.

Tom turned and looked behind himself and spotted the large fluid-filled container and the fake Pettigrew.

Tom choked out a laugh and looked back. "Um… I agree."

Harry chuckled and hopped off the table just in time for Tom to grab his hand and drag him out of the workroom, down the hall, and into his bedroom instead.

— —

The day of Pettigrew's scheduled Dementor's Kiss came a week before September 1st, pushing it back a bit further than Harry or Tom had honestly expected. It was a 'public' event, in that members of the press, certain officials, and anyone closely involved in the case was invited to attend to witness it.

Harry didn't hear from Tom that morning, and didn't honestly know how the whole thing was supposed to unfold, since he had honestly not wanted to know too many of the details. So he went into the viewing room with Sirius and Remus, and the other witnesses, not knowing what to expect. The witnessing room had a large window in one wall and the room beyond was empty except for a single chair in the center.

The room full and muffled nervous chatter filled the otherwise silent space for several minutes as they waited.

Finally the door to the other chamber opened and a Pettigrew was led into the room by an Auror. His arms and legs were bound with chains and it restricted his movement enough that he shuffled into the room, more than actually walked. His eyes looked dead and empty and he was devoid of any emotion. The Auror sat him in the chair, chaining him to it, and pulling out a leather strap from the headrest and wrapping it over Pettigrew's forehead, holding his head in place. Then he left through the door, closing it behind him.

"Peter Pettigrew," a booming voice filled both rooms, causing Pettigrew to actually flinch. Harry recognized the voice as belonging to Rufus Scrimgeour. Who was now Minister Scrimgeour, as he had apparently been elected by the Wizengamot shortly after Sirius and Pettigrew's trials.

"You have been sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. Do you have any last words?" Scrimgeour's voice continued.

Pettigrew, still looking so dead in the eyes that Harry would swear he'd already been kissed, simply shook his head from side to side as much as his binding would allow, before closing his eyes.

Harry glanced sideways and could see Sirius's brow knitted together, and a deep frown set upon his face.

"Very well," Scrimgeour's voice said with a sense of finality. Then the door to the chamber opened and a feeling of cold dread seemed to ooze its way through the chamber and into the viewing room. Harry shivered and hugged himself as he felt a bit of a dizzy spell coming on.

An auror that had been standing by the door to the viewing room stepped forward and cast a patronus - a small bird of some sort, from the looks of it - and it began to flutter back and forth around the viewing window. The chill ceased immediately and Harry heaved a sigh of relief.

His attention went back onto Pettigrew who was now whimpering and shaking violently as the Dementor drew closer. He cried out and fought against his restraints, but the Dementor quickly flew in over him, bringing his veiled face down over Pettigrew's and appearing to suck something out. Harry didn't entirely trust what he was seeing though - although it looked like what it was supposed to, enough that he wondered for a moment if Tom had changed his mind, or been unable to make the swap.

Finally the Dementor pulled back and Pettigrew's body fell limp in the chair. His eyes dead and lifeless.

Another voice filled the rooms, stating the time and the date declaring Pettigrew to have been Kissed. The door opened and two workers in what Harry had come to see as the wizarding world's version of hospital scrubs, came in, unstrapped Pettigrew from the chair, and then one of them cast a spell, levitating the body and then leaving the room.

It was over.

The three of them left the Ministry without saying much. Remus looked especially disturbed by the whole thing. As soon as they got back to Grimmauld Place, Remus made a quiet excuse and went up to his room. Sirius stood at the base of the stairs with Harry waiting until they could hear Remus' door close.

Sirius turned to Harry, a piercing look in his eyes. "Was that really Peter?" he asked, sharply.

Harry flinched at the sudden, demanding tone. "Uh, yes?" he responded, warily.

"No, I mean it Harry - was that really Peter?"

"I assume it was," Harry said, pulling up as much confidence as he could.

"Is there a chance that it _wasn't?"_ Sirius asked, pointedly.

Harry heaved a tired sigh and rolled his eyes skyward for a moment before looking down at Sirius' intensely determined face.

"Okay, there's a _chance._ "

"Details," he demanded flatly.

"Tom… may have switched him out with this body-double he grew. I don't understand the details of how he made it walk around."

"Oh for god's sake!" Sirius exclaimed throwing his hands into the air. "And you're okay with this? With him saving that sniveling, traitorous, little —"

"Of _course_ I'm not _okay_ with Pettigrew…" Harry trailed off and huffed, looking around hesitantly and then grabbing Sirius arm and dragging him towards the stairs.

"Harry —"

"Shut up," Harry snapped, scowling straight ahead as he continued to drag Sirius up the stairs to the first landing and then down the hall to Harry's room. He closed the door behind them and with a couple well practiced swishes of his wand, threw up a privacy ward.

Harry turned and looked at Sirius with tired determination. "Of course, I'm not totally okay with Pettigrew getting off. I _hate_ him. I hate what he did to my parents. I hate what he did to _you_. I hate how he helped Voldemort come back, how he _killed_ Cedric, and how he held me down and took my blood for that damned ritual. _But!"_ Harry said sharply, as Sirius was obviously about to open his mouth and interject something.

"— _But_ I can also see that there's more to this than just how I feel. Tom feels _regret and remorse_ about… all of this. He feels bad that he dragged Lucius Malfoy and the other Death Eaters into the Ministry attack, just because of his insane obsession with the prophecy. He feels badly that he got them all locked away in Azkaban because of his insanity and madness. He feels bad that he had to sacrifice Pettigrew's life to save you, _for me,_ and on top of that he suspects he might owe Pettigrew a Life Debt. He… he takes the whole 'swearing loyalty and allegiance' thing more seriously now. The whole, 'being their Lord' thing. He went on about how a Lord is supposed to protect his servants. Otherwise he doesn't deserve to ask for their servitude or whatever."

Sirius rolled his head and eyes skyward and threw up his arms. "In what world is any of that a _good thing?_ He _feels bad_ that he got his asshole followers to do shitty illegal things for him? That doesn't absolve them of whatever punishment they deserve!"

"I know! God, Sirius, just _shut up!_ Look… Pettigrew is a piece of shite - I agree. But he saved Tom's life. Or, well, he saved _Voldemort's_ life. He was the only one who ever went to find him — other than Quirrell, but… but he wasn't actually a Death Eater so he doesn't count. Anyway, Tom feels like he owes Pettigrew a real legitimate debt, even if he hates the man now. He doesn't feel _right,_ just abandoning him to die. Especially since he used the Imperius on him to send him to the Ministry in the first place. It's like he _directly_ led to Pettigrew's incarceration and punishment - which would be a bad thing if he _does_ owe the man a Life Debt. I may not agree entirely, but I can't help but feel like his motives for doing it are a good sign. It's _loyalty_ and _guilt_. Voldemort _never_ would have experienced _either_ of those emotions. Never!"

Sirius scoffed and shook his head with stubborn incredulousness. "Oh right. Yeah, did it ever occur to you, Harry, that maybe he's just trying to keep his followers around so he can use them to continue doing all the awful nasty shit he's been doing _for decades?_ "

"He _isn't!_ "

"Oh, right. Because he _said so_ , you just _believe him?"_

"Oh for fucks sake, Sirius, I am _so sick of this!_ " Harry bellowed. "If you can't trust Tom, _fine_. But could you even consider trying to trust _me?_ Can you even contemplate the possibility that I'm not a gullible idiot? That I might actually have a little experience dealing with people lying to me all the damn time?"

"Well, apparently, _Dumbledore_ has been lying to all of us, all this time, and none of us were any the wiser! Are you going to tell me that you don't think _Voldemort_ might be a better liar than Dumbledore?"

"I'm perfectly aware of how good Tom is at lying," Harry snapped. "I'm also honestly confident that he's _not_ lying to me! We _feel_ each other, you know. You remember I told you about that night Dumbledore came to Privet Drive to ask me about where I'd been disappearing off to, and ' _who that unknown young man was?'_ I told you how Tom showed up during all that? He _felt_ my panic. All the way from his place, he could _feel_ that. Well I _feel_ him too. It's subtle, and usually only during real extremes, but if I concentrate and really try, I can feel him whenever I want. He's been teaching me occlumency and that's made it even more clear to me. It's like… it's like I never have to be alone. I can always find him at the back of my mind. And I can _tell_ that when he feels guilt, or sadness, or excitement, that it's _real_. You can fake words and facial expressions, but you can't fake the emotions behind them."

Sirius stood there, looking at Harry with a mixture of confusion, concern, and thoughtfulness on his face. His brow was knitted tightly together and a frown was prominent on his face.

"How can you be sure that he's not just projecting those to you to fool you? Like the vision of me in the Ministry. He could —"

"Argh!" Harry growled throwing his hands up and turning away from Sirius as he reached forward and gripped the top of his desk chair and tried to calm his breathing. "There is _nothing_ I could ever say, that you wouldn't just come up with some excuse to keep hating him, is there?"

Sirius scoffed. "Harry, if you expect me to ever _stop hating Voldemort_ , then you're out of your mind."

"HE'S NOT VOLDEMORT!" Harry bellowed, turning back and screaming at Sirius. "Voldemort is dead! All that's left is Tom. I'm not just saying that to get you to lighten up. It's what I honestly believe, Sirius!"

Sirius just shook his head in a way that Harry found to be unbearably condescending.

"Harry, a person can't just —"

"You know what? Screw it." Harry said with an exhausted laugh. He turned towards the foot of his bed where his trunk lay open and mostly packed. Hogwarts started in a week, and about the only thing left still in his room were clothes and a couple books. Harry pulled out his wand, waved it in a silent gesture and his few remaining things flew across the room and neatly placed themselves in his trunk.

Sirius frowned in confusion. "What are you —"

"I'm leaving," Harry said in a sense of finality.

"And where exactly are you planning to go!?" Sirius exclaimed incredulously.

" _To Tom's,_ " Harry growled.

"You'd choose _him_ over me? You'd choose him over family?"

"Family!?" Harry exclaimed with a laugh. "My father picked you because you were friends. As for blood relation? You and I are barely related at all! I'm as closely related to _Narcissa Malfoy_ as I am to you! Tom and I _share a soul!_ "

"You would pick him… over me," Sirius said, in a much quieter and more subdued tone now, looking at Harry with utter disbelief.

"With Tom, if he and I disagree on something, we have a _rational discussion_. I can actually _change his mind_ on things, and even when we can't totally agree, we're both willing to make concessions. We _compromise!_ Because Tom is actually _rational!_ You are the most stubborn person I've ever known!"

"I just want to protect you," Sirius said. "I _swore_ to protect you."

"The Harry Potter that you swore to protect wasn't even _me_ ," Harry said in a low voice. "His soul was ripped from this body by Voldemort's killing curse, and then _I_ took over. Or have you conveniently forgotten that detail?"

Sirius just stood there in silence. Not saying a word.

Harry flicked his wand and the trunk lid closed and it levitated into the air.

Harry turned and went for the door with the trunk floating behind him. He paused in the door way, his hand on the frame.

"Are you going to tell Dumbledore?" he asked in a flat tone.

"Tell Dumbledore?" Sirius said, sounding mildly incredulous.

"If you are, I'd appreciate a warning. I can't go back to Hogwarts if there's a chance you will. It's not safe for me there."

"I wouldn't do that," Sirius said quietly.

Harry nodded, still not looking back, and then left the room, leaving Sirius standing there, dumbstruck.

— —

"Honestly Harry, I have to say, the last place I thought you'd want to be right now is _here_. Especially considering my _houseguest."_ Tom said worriedly as he and Harry walked down the short path to Tom's front door, Harry's trunk floating behind them.

Harry heaved a tired sigh. "I can't be there right now. I'll just… try to ignore Pettigrew as best as I can."

Tom paused and turned around to face Harry. He reached up and put his hands on Harry's shoulders, and looked at him worriedly. "This is my fault, isn't it?"

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes skyward. "It is _not_ your fault. It's _Sirius'_ fault for being such a _stubborn jackass_."

The corner of Tom's mouth curled with amusement, but he still looked more worried than anything else. "What is this going to mean? For… well, the rest of our plans?"

"Sirius said he won't tell Dumbledore."

Tom hummed in a way that indicated he wasn't entirely confident in that statement but he nodded. "The question that remains then, is what he's going to tell people happened between the two of you."

Harry sighed and shrugged. "Probably just that we got in an argument and that he doesn't want to talk about it."

"Hopefully," Tom said, still looking unconvinced. He sighed and then glanced back towards the cottage for a moment before looking back at Harry. "There's something else we need to cover before we go in there."

"What?"

"Pettigrew doesn't know that _this me_ is… me. He doesn't associate this appearance with Voldemort."

"Who does he think you are?"

Tom hesitated for a moment, twisting up his mouth before looking sheepishly at Harry. "He thinks I'm Voldemort's _son."_

Harry blinked at him for a moment, absorbing those words.

"He thinks you're… your son."

Tom cracked a small grin and shrugged.

"Where did _that_ idea come from?" Harry asked, almost incredulously.

"Well, I honestly have no desire for _anyone_ , even Pettigrew, to associate this face with Voldemort. I already feel outrageously exposed with Sirius knowing. Especially considering how unstable he is. Despite that, I had to come up with some way that Pettigrew would still feel obligated to respect me as, _me_. I also have absolutely no desire to spend every moment of the next week, or any subsequent stays here at home, to be spent in the form of Voldemort. So… this was a compromise. I told him _as Voldemort_ that 'my son' would be looking after him, and to defer to his instructions and commands. I told him that I, _as Voldemort_ , would be traveling abroad for much of the next few months and it was unlikely I would be returning to the cottage much during that time, but that my son would probably occasionally drop in."

Harry stared at Tom for a moment before letting out a small 'huh, sort of sound and shrugging. "Well, I suppose it works."

"It seemed like a pretty effective solution to me. It's enough to garner deference from any Death Eaters, because they'd never risk angering their Master by insulting his son, but it also gives me adequate distance and deniability. After all, any son that Voldemort had back in 1979 would have been only three years old when he disappeared. Plus, I intend to stick with the, 'mother-died, ended up in foster care' story. So I never would have had any exposure to him until last year, after 'he was reborn'. That way if the story ever did _get out_ to other people, I could easily deny any culpability. It's hardly reasonable to hold a son responsible for his father's sins, even though people will tend to feel inclined to do so. And it's obvious why a person would _hide_ something like _that_. Who wants to admit that their father was a mass-murdering lunatic?"

Harry shrugged and nodded concedingly. "Yeah… okay, I can see that working. What about _me?_ What does Pettigrew know about you and I?"

"Uhm… not much," Tom admitted. "But he does know that he was sent to the Ministry to get Sirius off the hook, for the sake of wooing you to 'our side'. So he knows that you've already been approached by 'the Dark Lord'. Outside of that, he's been primarily kept in the dark. He's really just grateful that he's no longer in a holding cell, and that he still has his soul."

Harry heaved a sigh and shrugged his shoulders again. "Alright, fine. Where's he sleeping, anyway? I mean, I assume he's still human and not a rat, right?"

"Yes. He's human. I sectioned off a portion of the basement into another bedroom and I've put him down there."

"Where am I going to stay?"

"Um… my room?" Tom said with a hesitant question in his voice.

Harry grinned. "Yeah, I think I'm okay with that."

Tom smiled back. "Brilliant. Well, lets do this," he motioned towards the front door and the pair moved forward, with Tom pulling the door open and gesturing Harry and his trunk inside.


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Tom stood in front of the full length mirror in his bedroom once again examining his features and frowning.

"Merlin, I _really am_ screwed up, aren't I?" Harry asked, his reflection visible in the mirror from his perch on the bed a short distance behind Tom.

"Hm?" Tom asked distractedly as he finished adjusting his _Dark Lord robes_.

"Even with the whole getup - the big intimidating black robes and all - I still kind of…" Harry trailed off, his eyes trailing over Tom's reflection in the mirror. "—like it," he finished in a huskier voice than usual.

Tom turned and gave Harry a look that was one part amused and one part incredulous.

He was standing there in his Voldemort guise and preparing for a last few tasks he felt he wanted to attend to before the school year began.

"Well I'm afraid we haven't really got time to explore your attraction to this appearance right now. It's already getting quite late."

Harry heaved a sigh and let himself slide back so that he was laying on the bed. "Yeah, fine," he said with playful disappointment in his voice. Finally he pushed himself up just enough so that he was propped on his elbows with his head raised up, looking at Tom again. "So you're really sure you want to do this?"

"I think it's the most prudent action to take," Tom nodded, fully turning away from the mirror now and facing Harry. "Dumbledore likes to see himself as the greater good, doing what has to be done, no matter the price, but because of this self-image, he doesn't like to go digging around in people's minds without significant cause to do so. At most, his tendency in the past has always been to do only very light surface scans that really only tell you if a person is lying or not. _Severus_ , however, holds no such reservations, and is considerably more likely to not give two shits about personal privacy. _He_ is the biggest risk - and not just with you, but also with your friends. Which reminds me, you said you were going to lend Hermione that Occlumency book, did you?"

Harry frowned before heaving himself back up to a sitting position. "Yeah, I did. As for Snape, I still don't trust him. What exactly do you plan to tell him?"

"I think I'll mostly focus on your mother, as I feel that's the part that means the most to _him_."

Harry grimaced now. "Ugh… I still can't believe that my mum was _friends_ with that nasty git."

"Since they were eight or nine, as I understand it," Tom confirmed with a sigh. "In any case, I suspect that she was the reason that he turned to Dumbledore in the first place. If Severus understood that Dumbledore set her up, knowing full well that if she were the mother of my prophesied vanquisher, she would undoubtedly be killed… well I rather doubt that he'll feel quite so much loyalty to the old man. I would hope at least."

"Okay, but what about _me_ in all this?"

"I'm not telling him a single thing about our soul connection," Tom said simply. "I'm optimistic that I can lure his loyalties away from Dumbledore with this, but that's no guarantee, and I can't risk that Dumbledore will realize that I know you're an extension of my soul. But that doesn't mean I won't mention you _at all_ … It may be necessary, but I'll admit that I'm not yet entirely sure how I'm going to handle it all… I suppose I've sort of planned to play it by ear. Which is _so_ not like me that it's rather unsettling. I swear you're wearing off on me."

Harry chuckled.

Tom paused in thought for a moment. "If you want, I can take the watch and leave it on and you can listen in. It might be a bit unpleasant though. I do make an effort to get into character, though I find I've got little stomach for it. Still, I have to make it convincing enough that he doesn't suspect anything is too off."

"Nah," Harry said, waving him off, "No, I think I'm better off just getting some rest."

"It'll probably be rather late before I get back," Tom said nodding his bald pale head in agreement. "I'm considering a visit to Lucius when I'm done with Severus."

"Malfoy? Why him?"

"At this point he's only heard of my approval on his behavior through Narcissa, and while I know he trusts his wife, I rather doubt there isn't some part of him that's paranoid that I might still be secretly angry with him. I'd rather not leave him stewing in his own fear and paranoia. I also wish there was some way I could let certain others know that Lucius's actions were approved of, since I suspect the general opinion as of this moment is that he's a traitor and I would be happy if he were dead. I fear some other witch or wizard, aiming to prove their loyalty to me, might attempt some sort of retaliatory act against Lucius, which would obviously be undesirable. But at the same time, the fact that I approved of the names he used to gain his freedom is information I cannot let get out into the public, so…" Tom trailed off and let out a slightly frustrated huff, that was no doubt fairly strange when he was in this form.

"Your life is still way too complicated," Harry said, shaking his head with mild amusement.

Tom snorted. "Look whose talking." He sighed. "I _am_ trying to trim it down… considering how inaccessible I'll be during the school year, I know things will only narrow in focus more. Or at least, I hope so. I think I'll inform him that I intend to go abroad for some sort of research… trip. I don't know. I'll probably tell Severus, Lucius, and Bella that I'm searching for some valuable object and that I'll be out of the country. They'll be enough to spread the word to any of the others and get the Death Eaters off my back, and my mind, for a while at least."

"You're still going to have to decide what to do about them long term, though," Harry pointed out.

Tom heaved a sigh. "I know… I was actually debating one idea."

"What's that?"

"I was considering staging some sort of encounter between you and me, in this form, of course."

Harry's brow furrowed. "What sort of encounter?"

"A mock duel. Probably something along the lines of what happened in the Graveyard, where our spells connected and went back and forth like they did. Except I'd _lose_ and be blasted to bits. End of Voldemort, nice and simple."

"Er… I assume you're suggesting that some _fake_ you would be blasted to bits and not the _real_ you."

Tom chuckled. "Yes, Harry. This would be staged for the sake of the show."

Harry hummed and nodded his head. "Actually, that would probably work out really well. It wouldn't fool Dumbledore, since he knows you can't really die if I'm still alive, but the Death Eaters and the public would all believe that _Voldemort_ was dead then, and things could go back to normal - or as normal as the wizarding world ever gets. And then you could just be Thomlyn Moore and start clean."

Tom smiled softly, finding he rather liked that idea, and then wondered what that sort of expression might look like on this face and chuckled.

"Yes, well, that's all well and good, but I don't think it's something we'll need to address any time soon. The spring would be my preference, I think."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's _always_ in the spring."

Tom chuckled. "I like aligning significant events with Samhain and Beltane. Equinoxes are prime times for things like that."

"Merlin, I guess I should have started paying attention to when Beltane is years ago, then," Harry muttered. "I've always known that Halloween was bad luck, but I should have noticed the spring thing too."

"Well, if I'm going to do this, I should get going," Tom said, finally deciding hurry up and get this over with.

"Kiss me when you get in," Harry said, standing up and walking with Tom as he left his bedroom.

"Even if you're already asleep?" Tom asked as he went through the sitting room and paused at the front door.

"Yes, definitely," Harry grinned and pushed himself up on his tip-toes, pressing his lips against Tom's practically lipless mouth. Tom pressed forward, angling his head and deepening the kiss.

Both hummed in pleasure before slowly pulling apart.

Then Harry started snickering.

Tom arched a hairless brow in silent question.

"Can you imagine if Wormtail had come upstairs _now?_ "

Tom made an amused choking sort of sound. "I suspect his heart would have given out on him from the shock," Tom drawled. "Well, I'm off. I'll be back in a few hours at the latest."

"Be safe," Harry said as Tom opened the door and stepped through it.

Tom quickly made his way down the short path, reaching up and pulling the hood of his cloak up and over his head as he went. Once he was beyond the anti-apparition wards he held his wand in hand and spun on the spot, disapparating with a soft crack.

Tom appeared in a dingy alleyway between two dilapidated brick buildings. He stepped out from between them and quickly strode along the cobblestone road past one dark and run-down building after another until he came upon a cross street with a sign marked Spinner's End. He turned and made his way to the end of the road where a house sat with a dim light on in the downstairs window.

Tom heaved a small breath, grateful that it appeared Severus was still here. He had feared the man would have already moved back to the school, what with it being so close to the start of the new term. He would have had to summon the man with his mark, then, and that required having a place to summon him _to._

He quickly made his way up to the front door pulled in a calming breath and wrapped his knuckles against the door.

Several moments of silence passed before some shuffling could be heard from within and some shadows shifting through the windows. Finally the front door opened but a sliver and the sallow face of Severus Snape framed in a curtain of black hair appeared there.

"Who's there?" he asked sharply.

Tom reached up and pulled his hood down in a slow dramatic reveal that he knew he would have relished doing in days past, just for the sake of the reaction. He had to admit that even now, he took some pleasure in just how wide Severus' eyes got as he first registered who was there.

Severus gasped and quickly pulled the door open, "My Lord!" he exclaimed. "Please, come in."

"Severus," Tom said with a very slight dip of his head as he strode forcefully into the room, letting Severus close the door behind him. "I am most relieved to find you in your home still. I had feared that you would have relocated to Hogwarts already, being so late in the summer."

"I… have been visiting the school in the days this last week to prepare, but I did not intend to return to living in my quarters there until August 31st," Severus replied, clearly trying to sound composed, despite how off balance this sudden and unexpected situation was undoubtedly making him.

Tom hummed in disinterested acknowledgement and eyed the surroundings with mild distaste before letting his eyes linger on some of the books that filled the shelves lining every available wall. His hand went out and absently traced the spines of a few before he let his eyes fall back on Severus who was standing rigidly by a rather worn down arm chair.

Severus instantly bowed his head, seeing that Tom was now looking at him. This was the sort of deference he was accustomed to from Severus and he knew that enduring the man's acerbic disrespect once he was back in his youthful appearance and acting as one of the man's students, would become annoying quite quickly. He wasn't looking forward to it, one bit.

"What can I do for you, my Lord?" Severus asked. "I have continued to attend Dumbledore's Order meetings and would be happy to give you a full debriefing, if that is what you are here for…"

Tom eyed him for several long beats, but finally he moved around the aging furniture that occupied the center of the room. He sneered at one of the armchairs before pulling out his wand and casting a spell that took the dusty, worn down piece of furniture and made it look like new and now made of fine black leather. He then took a seat in it, and looked at Severus expectantly.

The man quickly rushed around the chair he was standing beside and sat down so he was now facing the Dark Lord.

"As you are no doubt aware, I have been _away_ for much of the summer since the incident at the Ministry," Tom began, instantly drawing Severus' full attention. "I have been tracking down evidence and have made revelations that are not only of significant importance to myself, but also hold some meaningful relevance to _you_."

Severus blinked, his face a carefully controlled mask. "Me, my Lord?"

"The first and most substantial discovery was that Dumbledore's prophecy, of which _you_ initially brought to me, and due to which many of your comrades are now in Azkaban for, was _faked_. The whole blasted thing was a ploy intended to lure me into a trap. And you were the pawn he used to deliver it," Tom sneered.

Tom went on to describe the deal with a seventh-seal demon lord that Dumbledore had mistakenly deduced The Dark Lord had made in an effort to gain greater power and secure his own immortality. He detailed the ritual that Dumbledore had apparently discovered that was the only way to dissolve this sort of union, and how the one and only way for it to succeed was with the sacrifice of an innocent life.

As Tom got further in and it began to become clear that Lily's child had been _chosen_ by Dumbledore to serve this sacrificial purpose, entirely because James and Lily were so blindly faithful to Dumbledore and his cause, Severus' perfect blank mask slowly began to slip further and further until his face was slacken and horror stricken.

"Of course Dumbledore's greatest misfortune was that he was entirely incorrect in his assumption that I had made a deal with one of these demons," Tom said with a somewhat flippant gesture of his hand. "So this great and powerful spell that he'd arranged that would bring about my final destruction, was entirely the wrong sort of magic to do such a task. When it came upon the protections that I _actually_ have in place, it wasn't strong enough to break the bonds, and was unable to fulfill it's purpose. Instead it settled with blasting my body to bits, and the rest, as they say, is history.

"But my point in sharing this story with _you_ Severus is quite simply the reality that while I was tricked into nearly destroying myself, _you_ were tricked into playing a role in your beloved Lily Evan's death. I know that part of you has always held a shred of guilt in regards to her death. You've hidden it from me well, but I suspect it's a far greater driving force in your motivations and choices than you had wanted me to be aware of before now. I _suspect_ that Dumbledore used that guilt to continue to manipulate you towards his own goals, and turn you against me," he ended in a low growl.

Severus' eyes widened. "My Lord! I have never —"

Tom raised his hand sharply, cutting Severus off. "You have always been the consummate performer - playing to your audience perfectly. The double-agent - the triple agent? You claim that in the end you are loyal to _me_ , and that you spy on Dumbledore and his Order _for me_ , but I realize now that I was merely a fool to my own ego. You are, and have long been Dumbledore's man, ever since it became clear that I would likely bring about the death of your dear Lily. If anything, you have been loyal _to her_ , but you believed that in order to do so, you had to align yourself with Dumbledore. Am I correct, Severus? I demand the truth here. I will not tolerate any further lies from you."

Severus was pale and looked entirely ill. His lips were pressed into a tight line and he stared into Tom's red bloodshot eyes for several long beats before he visibly swallowed and nodded his head.

"I… I went to him, begging him to protect her," he rasped.

"As I suspected," Tom said with a small nod of his head as he sat further back in his chair and observed Severus for a long moment. The man seemed to be startled by his own admission and a flash of fear seemed to enter his eyes a moment later.

"You know, Severus, I did attempt to honor your request to spare Lily Potter's life," Tom said in as gently a tone as he felt his old self could ever possibly manage, which was still rather sharp by most people's standards. "I know it means little in the end, but I did tell her to stand aside several times. I told her that she didn't have to die - that I was only there for the boy. But she refused to move. No surprise really. What sort of mother would she be if she had just stood aside and let me kill her child?"

Severus looked even more pale than was usual, which left him looking nearly as white as Tom currently did. He truly looked physically _ill_ , and he even seemed to wobble slightly in his chair before he held his eyes closed for a moment and centered himself.

"But of course, I never would have had any reason to go there _at all_ if Dumbledore hadn't orchestrated the entire thing," Tom growled bitterly. "In that pub, owned by his _brother_ , where he _knew_ several younger Death Eater recruits, all eager to please me, often frequented. He had that obnoxious woman walk in and loudly declare to the bar keep that she was there to speak with the great Albus Dumbledore. All he needed was one eager young servant to go eavesdrop at the door - it probably didn't even matter to him _who_ it was that did it, but he was probably quite grateful in the end that it was _you_. You, who already held such strong feelings for the woman he had already pegged to use to his own devices. You who could be so easily manipulated through those feelings."

Snape's gaze seemed to harden and his face became stoney in it's forced stillness. Tom paused, at war with himself over whether or not to make an attempt at legilimency. It would have to be powerful and forceful to get anything from this man - the only man Tom honestly believed might be _better_ at the skill than even he were. The _old_ him would do it in a heartbeat. He would have done it ages ago by now, but Tom still felt some small hesitation. He knew he'd have to in the end. It would be out of character for him not to.

"Dumbledore has often said that my lack of empathy and understanding of emotions like love and loyalty leave me weaker or vulnerable, while I, in contrast, have often insisted that it is those very emotions that leave a person weak and vulnerable to the manipulations of men like Albus Dumbledore. —And men like myself, admittedly. I have certainly never held reservations against holding a person emotionally hostage when it was to my advantage.

"Love and loyalty are a double-edged sword, really. In any case, it is his understanding of these emotions that put him into such a keen position to _use you_. And that is what he has been doing, Severus. He has been _using_ your guilt - using your _grief -_ when it was he who set this entire masquerade into motion to start with. He has wielded you like a weapon and aimed you at me, but _he_ is the enemy Severus. _Both_ of ours. You are a _Dark Wizard_ , Severus. You belong to _me_. You were never meant to be Dumbledore's man."

"I - I have _always_ been loyal to you, my Lord," Severus seemed to force out through the ragged breathing that had developed over the last ten minutes or so.

Tom narrowed his eyes and glared down at Severus, his lip curling. "I said I would not tolerate lies, Severus."

Tom reached out and grabbed Severus' chin and jaw with his long thin fingers with a forceful grip and angled his head up so they were staring into each others eyes. His other hand held his wand and an instant later he was crashing his way into Severus' mind.

The man put up a valiant fight, and did it with amazing grace and subtlety, but Tom's ego was no longer so large that he could be deceived by Severus' charade. It didn't hurt that Severus was an emotional mess, and that was causing him some trouble with his focus. Tom tore his way in and sifted through the decoys Severus kept throwing at him with one hand and with the other finally wrenched open a weakness and pulled forth a series of memories, nearly all taking place in Dumbledore's office, with Severus at various ages, speaking with the aged wizard - begging for his help, weeping over Lily's death, going to Dumbledore when his Mark was activated, and so on.

Finally satisfied, Tom retreated and moved back to resume his seat in the armchair.

Severus was slumped to the side in his chair and shaking slightly. His eyes were wide with terror as he stared at Tom, and it was clear that he feared he was about to die.

"I did not come here to kill you, Severus. I came here already knowing where your true allegiances have been these last 14 years, but I am willing to put that behind us. I am willing to give you… _one last chance_ ," he said in a tone that came off as convincingly threatening.

Severus' swallowed thickly and nodded his head rather quickly. He was apparently starting to pull himself together now as he sat more properly in his chair and attempted to reassert an air of calm, though he was still greatly shaken.

"What would you have me do, my Lord?" Severus asked.

Tom eyed him for a moment, realizing he'd hit that moment where he had to honestly decide what to do next. He'd been playing with several different ideas, and he knew that any and all of them were probably reckless and stupid and his _old self_ would never be this…

"I have someone who has, through random circumstance, found himself quite close with Harry Potter. This person is not someone whom I would consider _loyal_ to me… I rather doubt he even likes me," Tom paused and a small amused grin curled the corner of his lips. "And yet his goals and mine are aligned in this instance, so I believe I can accurately predict his actions.

"The point is that Harry Potter has been informed of Dumbledore's duplicity as well, and I'm sure you can imagine how that would affect his loyalties to the man."

Severus' eyes widened, but the rest of his face remained a mask of stone.

"I know you have never held reservations against traipsing about in the minds of your students - I only ask that if you do so now and come across some piece of information in regards to Potter or one of his friends, and sensitive information about Dumbledore, that you refrain from passing any of that information on to the old goat. I do not want the man to suspect anything about Potter's shifting in loyalties."

"Yes, my Lord," Severus said with a sharp bow of his head.

"Oh, and Severus?"

"Yes, my Lord?"

"Stay out of Thomlyn Moore's head. Potter's too, for that matter."

Severus' eyes widened. "Thomyln Moore — Potter's _friend?"_

" _Yes,_ Severus," Tom said with a tired drawl.

"My Lord… may I ask _who_ he is?"

Tom pinned Severus with a narrow focused glare for a moment before a small smirk curled the corner of his lips. "He is my son, Severus."

' _Shit. I shouldn't have done that.'_ Tom thought, regretting his words almost instantly. _'Harry is going to kill me. Reckless, reckless… always have to show off, don't you Tom?'_ Tom berated himself mentally. ' _You just can't let it all go, can you?'_

Tom knew _why_ he'd done it, but he also knew it was the worst reason. He'd been toying with the idea for weeks, and every time he'd managed to talk himself out of it, knowing it would provide too much temptation. And yet here, given the first real opportunity to do it, he'd given in.

The reality was that he wanted to be done with Voldemort. He wanted nothing to do with the persona any longer than was absolutely necessary, and yet the full prospect of giving up _everything_ that he had built up over the decades was daunting and rather frustrating.

Forfeiting _years_ \- no _decades_ \- worth of networking, gaining loyalties, acquiring spies, and amassing _respect_ \- well, it was not entirely appealing. As _Voldemort's Son_ he could retain some of those things while still shedding himself of _Voldemort_.

That was the idea, anyway. But it was a _bad idea._ A _terrible_ idea. And he knew it.

' _Damnit.'_

Severus, to his credit, managed to refrain from showing just how shocking this news likely was to him. His eyes told a different story than the rest of his face though, and he stared at Tom for several utterly stunned moments before he swallowed again and have a small nod of his head.

"Is… is Potter aware…?"

"Yes, Potter knows precisely who Thomlyn is," Tom said, sounding rather tired - though he was mostly tired with himself. He continued to berate himself in his head for a few moments longer before pushing it aside. It had happened, and he'd deal with the consequences when they came.

He pinned Severus with a sharp glare. "This information _can not_ get to Dumbledore. Do you understand me, Severus?

"Yes, my Lord. Of course," Severus said instantly.

Realizing that this was another of those moments where legilimency was entirely warranted, Tom crashed into Severus' mind again, his heart more in it this time as he realized he'd screwed up and he had to be sure now, or else he'd need to try and obliviate the man for his mistake.

Tom looked for any sign of duplicity or lies and while it was clear that Severus was still a bit of a wreck from the earlier revelations about Dumbledore, his loyalties to the man had been shredded. Tom wouldn't exactly say the man appeared to be all that loyal to _him_ either, but at least, he now appeared to hold greater animosity for Dumbledore than even for the Dark Lord.

Tom pulled back out and Severus was panting, slumped in his chair. He hadn't tried as hard this time to fend off the attack, probably as a sign of his deference to the Dark Lord, but Tom had still been rather rough. He didn't want to risk missing anything important.

"I want to trust you Severus. Do not make me regret what I have told you here today," He said in a low threatening voice.

Severus nodded his head, pushing himself back into a more upright seating position. "I will not disappoint you, my Lord." Severus paused then, and he seemed to be in turmoil for a moment before he spoke again. "My Lord… what do you intend to do about Potter now?"

"Nothing at the moment. Potter is not my concern. Dumbledore has repeatedly used Potter as a weapon against me. Either directly, or as bait for various traps, and I do not intend to fall into another of that man's machinations. Potter is _not_ a threat to me - Dumbledore is. But Potter must also be kept safe for… other reasons. I fear what Dumbledore would do to the boy if he discovered that Potter was not nearly as faithful and obedient anymore. Dumbledore _must_ remain ignorant to Potter's shift in loyalties. _That_ is what you can do for me, Severus."

Tom paused as one of the memories he'd wrenched from Severus's mind flitted through his memory. He smirked. "You once gave Dumbledore an unbreakable vow, swearing that you would protect Lily's son."

Severus' eyes shown both shock and fear but he squashed it quickly with resolution and nodded his head.

"Well then, that simplifies things, doesn't it? Continue to fulfill your vow. Protect Harry Potter. It's as simple as that."

— —

Tom appeared with a _crack_ on the path just beyond the gates of Malfoy Manor. He was exhausted and annoyed with the idea that he _still_ wasn't done yet.

He had parted from Severus' company with a throw-away comment about him leaving the country in search of something and that he would be inaccessible for an indeterminable period of time. He also told Severus that he _could_ relay that information to Dumbledore's Order, if he felt he needed _something_ to pass along, and also told the man that if Bella came asking again, to provide her with Polyjuice. Severus had looked rather put out at the last command.

Now he made his way to the front gates of Malfoy Manor and pulled out his wand, doing a quick check to make sure the Ministry hadn't come by to expand on the spells he'd dismantled the first time he came here earlier in the summer. There was one new surveillance spell, no doubt added when Lucius' sentence was commuted, but they had apparently remained ignorant of the modifications he'd made to the others, because they were still in place.

He reworked the latest detection and observation spell with his usual finesse and stepped through the gate to make his way up towards the grand imposing manor house.

Upon reaching the front door, he knocked once but then entered without waiting. He once again waited in the entry hall, but this time he was greeted an instant later by the arrival of a house elf. It squeaked in startled horror upon seeing him and popped away almost instantly. He rolled his eyes at the empty space it had just disappeared from and let out a huff of breath.

It took several minutes for Lucius to finally show up, but Tom suspected the man had already been in bed when he arrived and had hurriedly dressed before coming.

"My Lord," Lucius said as he quickly strode forward and fluidly felt onto one knee before him. Tom felt like sighing, but refrained. "You honor me with your presence. I cannot express the magnitude of my gratefulness in —"

"Yes, yes, Lucius, do stand up," Tom drawled in a tired tone, cutting the blond man off mid-sentence.

Lucius instantly stood, taking the hint and remaining silent.

"Is Bella still staying in your home?"

Lucius face fell slightly to be replaced with a tightly blank mask. "Yes, my Lord. She is."

"Have your elf summon her, I would like to speak to both of you while I am here."

"Yes, my Lord. Right away." Lucius said, not looking nearly so disappointed once it was clear that the Dark Lord was not here _solely_ for Bellatrix. "Popper!"

The elf that Tom had seen before reappeared, cowering away from both Lucius, but also especially from Tom.

"Popper, wake Bellatrix and tell her to come to the entry hall at once."

"Your study would be preferable," Tom drawled.

"Have her come to my study," Lucius corrected himself instantly. "Tell her the Dark Lord is here."

"Yes, Master," the elf said before disappearing with another _pop_.

"I do apologize for the late hour, Lucius. Do forgive the intrusion, but my schedule is rather compacted at the moment," Tom said in a polite, but insincere-sounding tone.

"It is no intrusion at all my Lord," Lucius exclaimed. "Shall we go to my study?"

"Yes, do lead the way."

Lucius quickly began to stride through the halls with Tom walking beside him and easily keeping pace. They reached Lucius' study and the man quickly pulled the door open and gestured Tom inside.

Tom opted to go stand by one of the many large shelves of books that lined the walls and observe the contents absently, rather than take a seat in any of the available chairs around the ornate mahogany desk. Lucius took this as another opportunity to fall to his knees before him, and Tom _did_ roll his eyes this time.

"My Lord, please let me take this opportunity to apologize _most profusely_ for my failure at the Ministry. That you have seen fit to see me released from Azkaban despite this failure is something I will be indebted to you for —"

"Lucius, _do_ stand up," Tom said in a tired and mildly irritated tone.

Lucius did as he was told, standing tall and watching Tom warily but in silence.

"The loss of the Prophecy is no longer a concern to me. My plans have shifted rather drastically since the incident at the Ministry."

A rapid knocking sounded against the door then and Lucius went over to pull the study door open, revealing Bellatrix looking both anxious and excited. Her eyes instantly fell on the Dark Lord as she pushed past Lucius without so much as a sideways glance.

"My Lord!" she gushed rushing forward and falling to her knees. "You have returned!"

"Yes, Bella," Tom drawled. "You may stand."

She hesitated for only a moment before standing up. She kept her head bows and her eyes averted, though she kept trying to look at him anyway, and the struggle looked ridiculous.

"First off, what is the progress on the item I asked you to bring me?" Tom asked.

She faltered, a flash of fear going through her wild eyes. "M-my Lord… I… Snape! Snape refused to —"

"It is alright if you have not gotten it yet, Bella. And seeing as how I gave no such order, Severus was under no obligation to brew you polyjuice, though I have told him that if you request it again, that he should provide you with some. As to the item, I told you that its safety was of greater importance than having it quickly, and I meant it. Take your time and make sure I get it _without incident._ "

"Yes, my Lord," she exclaimed bowing low at the waist.

"Now, Lucius, as I was saying, the prophecy and it's loss is of little importance to me now as I have discovered over the course of the summer that the prophecy was never _real_ to begin with. The blasted thing was faked from the start."

" _Fake_ , my Lord?" Lucius said.

Tom sneered. "Yes, it was _fake_. All the way back in 1980 when Severus was first setup to observe it, it had been a scheme concocted by the old goat to try and lure me into a trap. Things didn't go quite to plan, but obviously it was still destructive enough that my body was destroyed and I was trapped as little more than specter and smoke for a whole bloody decade.

"Potter never had anything to do with my downfall that night, nor did he ever have any special power to defeat me… it was all a setup." Tom heaved a sigh and looked towards the grate. There was a very low burning fire there that the elves probably tended to.

"After the Ministry debacle, I discovered that I had suffered… ill effects, as a result of something I did in my youth in an attempt to protect myself from my enemies. These ill effects were magnified by Dumbledore's machinations and both I, and you as my followers, have suffered for it. I have spent the last two months _restoring_ myself from these ill effects. I've already seen great progress, but there is something else I intend to seek to increase my power even more, and provide greater protection against Dumbledore's plans. It requires that I travel abroad for an indeterminate period of time."

"Abroad, my Lord?" Bellatrix asked, looking stricken by this news.

"Yes, and during that time I want there to be absolutely _no_ Death Eater activity to take place without my explicit direction to do so. It's probably for the best as our utter absence will put the Ministry and Dumbledore's Order off balance. Ideally, Lucius, this will also give you some more time to try and rebuild your reputation - though I have no expectation of that being a speedy process."

"I will do everything that I can, my Lord," Lucius said quickly.

Bella looked sideways at Lucius with a small disgusted curl to her lips.

"Use whatever excuses you need," Tom said with a dismissive gesture of his hand. "I know that publicly disavowing me will gain you no favor with any others who remain faithful to me, but it is of greater importance to me that you regain some of your standing within the Ministry. The opinions of a few others matter little and if they give you trouble you can tell them that you do this with my blessing."

"Thank you, my Lord. You are _most_ gracious," Lucius said bowing at the waist. Bellatrix looked surprised and then rather sour. Lucius spared her a slight smirk and Tom could already imagine that the two had been at each others throats since Lucius returned from Azkaban.

"Now, back to the subject at hand, as I said I will be _gone_ for an indeterminate period of time and I want _no action_ taken while I am gone, no matter _how_ antsy any of the others get. I have important things in development and other things that I am still researching and I don't want any actions taken while I am gone to jeopardize my future endeavors. The Ministry and the Order will be expecting us to start making more visible moves now that my revival has been outed, and going counter to that will only throw them further off balance, which I prefer.

"They'll be on edge waiting for something to happen, only for nothing to happen at all. When enough time has passed that they become complacent again, we can strike and catch them when they are off their guard. Of course while this delay will effectively confused our enemies I suspect it will _also_ greatly confuse those of my followers who still remain free. I do not have the time, nor the desire, to call forth everyone to me for a large gathering, just to tell them all that I'm leaving for some time, so I will leave that up to you to spread the word more fluidly.

"Severus also knows of my intentions to leave the country, and for any activities to cease in my absence. Hopefully the three of you combined will be enough to inform the others. Am I understood?"

"Yes, my Lord!" Bellatrix gushed while Lucius said it in a far more proper and composed manner.

"Good. Bella, use your mark to notify me when you do finally retrieve that object for me. I may not be able to return to you immediately, but I will do so as soon as is possible."

Tom finished things up with the pair quickly after that and left the study, heading towards the entry hall, feeling relieved to know that with luck, he wouldn't have to don this appearance again for quite some time.

Before leaving, he _did_ take a moment to inform Lucius that Pettigrew was actually still alive and with his soul in tact, and that the man was presently tasked with remaining in the Dark Lord's current safe-house caring for his snake while he was away, but that he might still consider sending Wormtail to Malfoy Manor, just to keep him out of his home and in some place where he could be more closely monitored. Lucius agreed without complaint, but the small disgusted curl of his lips was enough to tell Tom that the man hardly liked the idea of hosting the man again. Tom could hardly blame him. The only reason that Tom had decided not to lock the man in his animagus form was entirely because he needed someone to look after Nagini while he was at the school.

Finally he left the manor, passed through the gates and apparated back home.


	25. Chapter 25

— —

Chapter 25

"Bloody hell, Harry! We've been worried sick!" Ron exclaimed as he saw Harry and Tom appear through the barrier and onto Platform 9 3/4s at Kings Cross Station on the morning of September 1st.

"I sent a couple owls," Harry said, looking at him incredulously. He'd been relieved when Hedwig showed up at Tom's cottage the day after he'd arrived there earlier that week. Harry had then proceeded to send quick notes to his friends about his fight with Sirius and his current living arrangements.

"Yeah, but… well, I don't know. It's kind of crazy to just run off and disappear to some place that _no one else_ has any idea how to get to," Ron said.

"Oh Harry! Thank Merlin! There you are," Molly Weasley's relieved voice exclaimed over the din of the crowd as she rushed over and pulled a startled Harry into a big hug.

"Uh… I'm fine," Harry said.

Hermione, with her arms crossed over her chest, and Ginny behind her, both appeared a moment later.

"What did Sirius tell you lot happened?" Harry asked, suddenly feeling a sense of worry and dread build up in his chest.

"Well, not much, really," Hermione said. "Just that the two of you had some big row about…" she hesitated and looked over to Tom apologetically, "About you and Tom," she finished. "He said that he didn't think Tom was good for you, and you got angry and left."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Did he say _why_ he… doesn't think Tom is…?" Harry asked, trailing off with a question.

Hermione huffed a bit with obvious frustration. "No. He couldn't come up with a single reasonable thing, but nothing anyone else said seemed to budge him on the matter."

"Oh… okay," Harry said, still feeling rather wary. "So why the heck are you lot so worried about me? You knew where I was."

"Knowing that you're 'at Tom's', and knowing where Tom's actually is, are two separate things," Hermione said pointedly.

"Harry, dear," Molly Weasley said drawing attention to her, "you _have_ to understand how concerning it would be for everyone for you to be somewhere completely inaccessible. And with no Floo connection, even!" She looked at Tom apologetically, "I'm sure your home is protected and all, but the fact that _no one_ has any idea where it is… well, it's concerning."

"I'm afraid the wards aren't setup for visitors," Tom said apologetically. "It's an Approved People Only ward. The house isn't even visible if you aren't on the approved list. It's sort of like a Fidelius, in that way. If I add someone to the wards, it requires a sample of their blood and a brief ritual around the central ward stone. If anything, it's considerably _more_ convoluted than a Fidelius charm. Although, arguably, a skilled enough team of wizards could make an attempt at deconstructing my wards, if they knew exactly where the house was, while a Fidelius is an entirely different sort of magic. In any case, generally, I just don't bother having guests, because it's such a bother to do so."

Molly Weasley heaved a sigh and nodded. "It is understandable; still, we were worried."

"You lot best be boarding the train soon," Arthur Weasley said, coming over to join the group. "Oh, hi Harry."

"Hi Mr. Weasley." Harry hesitated and glanced around, frowning.

"I don't suppose Sirius is here?" Tom asked, since he was fairly sure that Harry wouldn't.

Hermione frowned sadly and shook her head. "Not as far as I know."

Tom placed a hand on Harry's back and rubbed it gently. "He can come to visit on the first Hogsmeade weekend," He said gently. "Maybe he'll have cooled off by then."

Harry scoffed. "Who said I wanted him to," he grumbled bitterly, grabbing the cart he and Tom had put their trunks and Hedwig's cage on to, and pushing it towards the train.

Ron and Hermione exchanged concerned looks before following along with the elder Weasley's and Ginny.

They went to the luggage compartment and dropped off their trunks there, in favor of taking them into their compartments.

Goodbyes were said, with Ginny parting first, saying she was going off to look for some of her friends in a compartment further up. Molly and Arthur hugged Ron, Hermione, and then Harry. Tom stood to the side, trying to wait patiently so they could actually board the train when suddenly he found himself being hugged by Molly Weasley as well. Tom's eyes practically bugged open with the obvious shock of it and he remained motionless for a moment before he awkwardly patted Molly's back.

"Thanks for looking after Harry," she said quietly, smiling at Tom and then stepping away.

"Uh… you're welcome," he responded inelegantly.

Harry grinned in obvious amusement and Tom just gave him a flat glare.

Finally the group climbed into the nearest train carriage and began looking for a suitable compartment. They came upon Neville and Luna and quickly piled inside.

"Hey Neville, hey Luna," Harry said, smiling warmly.

"Hey Harry! Ron, Hermione," Neville said with a nod of his head. "Oh, and Tom too! So you really are coming to Hogwarts then?"

"It would certainly seem so," Tom said with a crooked smile. "It's still rather surreal, honestly."

"It must be weird," Ron said, getting Pigwidgeon's cage up into the top storage rack. "I mean, you've never had normal school, have you?"

"Well, I attended muggle primary school for a number of years," Tom said with a shrug.

"This will be considerably different than that," Hermione said gently.

Tom chuckled. "Yes, I imagine it will."

"Is it going to be alright with you not working during the school year?" Neville asked. "You said you brewed potions all the time and sold them off for money, but now you won't really have time to do that."

"I have quite a bit saved up. Plus my Hogwarts tuition is being covered by some sort of scholarship for orphaned or abandoned muggleborn, or muggle-raised halfbloods. Since that includes my meals at the school, as well as room and board, it puts me in a fairly safe position, financially. The cottage I live in is not only paid for, but completely cut-off and hidden from the muggles, so it's not as if anyone is going to come asking for land taxes or utility payments."

The train whistle blew and the last few stragglers on the platform rushed to board the train. Ron leaned out the window and waved to his parents. Harry and Hermione waved as well. The train started to move and was soon completely clear of the station and on it's way.

"Well, I'm afraid that Ron and I have Prefect duties," Hermione said, standing up and double-checking Crookshanks carrier to make sure it was securely shut.

Tom blinked and looked up in surprise. " _Ron_ is a Prefect?"

Ron gave Tom an affronted sort of look. "Why's that so surprising?"

"No reason," Tom said quickly, smiling innocently.

Harry snorted and snickered behind his hand.

Ron glared at him too. He turned to find Hermione standing at the doorway, with a small grin on her face as well. Ron huffed, rolled his eyes and slid the door open.

"See you lot in a bit," Hermione said with a wave goodbye and then slid the door shut.

"So how are you, Luna?" Harry asked.

"Oh, very well, thank you," She said, smiling calmly and clutching a copy of the Quibbler in her lap.

"Quibbler still going strong then?" Harry asked, nodding down at the magazine.

"Oh yes, circulation's well up," Luna said happily.

"Have you been reading the Prophet over the summer?" Neville asked excitedly. "All those articles about what happened at the Ministry have been crazy. And _then_ all of that coverage from Sirius' trial! I'm surprised you lot managed to get onto the train without getting mobbed."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, I'm trying to learn to ignore them."

"Oi, come back here, Trevor!" Neville exclaimed as his toad made a bid for freedom and darted beneath the seat. Neville dived after him.

"Are we still doing D.A. meetings this year, Harry?" asked Luna, while detaching a pair of psychedelic spectacles from the middle of The Quibbler.

"Well… I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. I mean, last year we did it because of Umbridge, and we got rid of her, thankfully. But _this_ year we've got Snape instead, so we might just need it anyway."

A loud _Thud!_ and then an 'ow!' came from Neville beneath the seat, as he had suddenly jerked and banged his head. He came back out with Trevor in one hand and the other rubbing at his head. He had a look of utter horror on his face. "What do you mean, we've got Snape this year?"

"Dumbledore managed to convince an old friend of his to come out of retirement and take back his position at Hogwarts. However, this old friend was a _Potions Master_ , and most certainly not a Defense professor," Tom explained. "It's fairly easy to deduce that Snape gave up the Potions post for him and has finally managed to get the post he had wanted all along, which as I understand it, was the Defense job."

"Oh _Merlin!"_ Neville groaned miserably. "Just when I thought I would finally be rid of him!"

"Well, at least now you've got a shot at Potions?" Harry offered up.

Neville gave Harry a flat expression. "Do you honestly think that _I_ qualified for Advanced Potions?" he asked dryly.

"Slughorn takes students with Acceptable and Outstanding for Advanced Potions. You don't have to have gotten an Outstanding or even an Exceeds Expectations on your OWLs," Tom said.

"Hm… well I did manage an Acceptable, which I was honestly pretty surprised with," Neville muttered. "Not sure I'd really _want_ to go on with Potions, even if it _is_ a different professor.

"Yeah, I could take or leave Potions, myself," Harry admitted. "But dropping Defense is out of the question. So I'm stuck with that greasy git no matter what for another year."

Neville sighed and sank back into his seat, looking defeated. "It's just not fair. Oh yeah, there was something else I wanted to ask you about!" Neville sat up straighter and pulled out a copy of the Daily Prophet he had tucked away somewhere. It was folded open to the second page and there was a picture of Lucius Malfoy standing proudly below the headline 'Criminal or Victim?"

Neville handed it over to Harry who grimaced slightly at the sight of it. "Oh yeah, this," Harry said, in a flat tone.

"You think any of that rubbish is true? Can you believe that he actually managed to get off!? After what he did to us in the Ministry!?"

Harry glanced sideways to Tom and then quickly back at the paper. "Yeah, well apparently he gave up the names of a bunch of people in the Ministry who were under the Imperius curse. Plus he testified for Sirius at his re-trial."

"He probably tossed around some money as well," Neville grumbled. "Er, well… his wife did, I guess."

"He's put himself at risk by doing all this, though," Tom chimed in. "Any other remaining Death Eaters now see him as a traitor. No telling what Voldemort might do to him, should he get to him."

"Do you think any of that stuff about being coerced is true?" Neville asked dubiously.

"Voldemort insisted on _staying at Malfoy Manor_ for all of last year, and I rather doubt that Lucius Malfoy was in any position to refuse his master when he first expressed his desire to take up residence there. Just imagine how the man must have felt every time he left the house, knowing that _Voldemort_ was back there in the same house as _his wife_. If there was any reluctance on Malfoy's part, he certainly wouldn't have been in a safe position to do anything about it."

"Yeah, but does anyone honestly believe that there was any real reluctance?" Neville asked.

"Before Voldemort's return, Lucius Malfoy had become a very successful and influential man. He was close friends with the Minister, and when he wanted something, he got it. He already had a great deal of power. Power that _he earned_. When he was younger and first joined the Death Eaters, the promises of the Dark Lord probably seemed rather tantalizing, but now he was hardly in a position to need or want it. He already had what he wanted. He'd managed to put his past behind him and to get the majority of people to forget, or at least _act like they forgot_ his involvement with the Death Eaters in the first place. He'd moved on. And then, his past came back to haunt him, threatening everything he'd accomplished over the years, and he was powerless to do anything about it, for fear of putting his family in further danger."

"Hm…" Neville frowned deeply.

Harry changed the subject to OWL results shortly after that, and conversation lulled on for the next hour or so.

Finally the compartment door slid open and Ron and Hermione returned.

"Wish the lunch trolley would hurry up, I'm starving," said Ron longingly, slumping into the seat beside Harry and rubbing his stomach.

"How were rounds?" Tom asked conversationally.

"Boring.", said Ron. "Fantastic," Hermione said at the same time. They looked at each other, Hermione sporting a look of mild annoyance. She rolled her eyes and turned back to Tom. "We helped the most adorable little first year."

Hermione went on to relate a brief story that Harry really didn't care enough about to pay too much attention to.

"You should have seen Malfoy though," Ron grumbled when Hermione was finally done with her story.

"What'd he do?" Harry asked curiously.

"Just the usual," Ron said shrugging. "Snobbing it up with the other snakes."

"I don't know, he seemed to be acting different to me," Hermione said.

"How so?" asked Harry.

"Well, he didn't bully a single first year, for one," Hermione said almost incredulously. "I didn't really see him bully _anyone_."

Ron twisted up his face as if he were trying to remember any of this.

Just then, the compartment door slid open again and a breathless third-year girl stepped inside.

"I'm supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom and Harry P-Potter," she faltered, as her eyes met Harry's and she turned scarlet. She was holding out two scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon. Perplexed, Harry and Neville took the scroll addressed to each of them and the girl stumbled back out of the compartment.

"What is it?" Ron demanded, as Harry unrolled his.

"An invitation," said Harry.

 _Harry,_

 _I would be delighted if you would join me for a bite of lunch in compartment C._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Professor H.E.F. Slughorn_

"Professor Slughorn?" Neville said, "Isn't that the new potions professor?"

"Yeah," Harry said, frowning perplexedly at the invitation.

"What's he want with me?" Neville asked almost incredulously.

Harry just shrugged in confusion.

"It doesn't surprise me one bit," Tom said, looking over Harry's shoulder at the paper. "From what I understand of Slughorn, he likes to handpick students that he thinks either have great potential themselves, or who have family connections to powerful or influential people. He holds this thing called the Slug Club where they have dinners, and tea, and parties where he brings in old students of his who have gone on to bigger and better things, for the sake of providing his select few with future networking opportunities."

"Networking opportunities?" Neville echoed incredulously. "But _why me?"_

Tom shrugged this time. "Your family name? The fact that you were with Harry in the Ministry? There are any number of reasons. If you don't want to keep getting invited to his parties just try to be as unimpressive as possible and he won't invite you back."

Neville looked torn at that statement, as if he were unsure if he wanted to be 'unimpressive', but also feeling rather horrified by the prospect of being invited to 'parties' where he was supposed to 'network'.

"But we were at the Ministry too. Why didn't _we_ get invites?" Ron asked, clearly affronted.

"He's only got so much room in a train compartment," Tom offered with a shrug. "He picks people from all grades and houses. It was probably a bit of a stretch to pick two people from the same house and the same year, as it is."

Ron continued to frown, but not quite as deeply.

"Hmm…" Harry hummed thoughtfully, glancing at his watch. "Well, it's almost lunch. Suppose we should go?" he asked Neville.

Neville still looked a bit bewildered but shrugged and nodded.

"See you when you get back," Tom said as Harry stood and walked towards the compartment door, paused, looked back and grinned.

"See you in a bit," he said to the compartment as a whole as he and Neville left and closed the door behind them.

Ron huffed out an annoyed breath and folded his arms across his chest. "I still don't see why he picked _Neville…"_

" _Ron!"_ Hermione scolded.

A minute of slightly uncomfortable silence passed in the compartment before someone finally spoke. It was Luna.

"So Thomlyn, what house do you expect to be sorted to?"

Ron perked up with a look of sudden dawning. "Blimey, I didn't even think of that! You've gotta be sorted, don't you?"

"I would expect so," Tom said with a light chuckle.

"How's that work? Is he gonna get put in with the first years?" Ron frowned.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He's hardly the first transfer student, Ron."

"Uh, who else?"

"In second year, there was a student that transferred in with the fifth years," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"I wasn't exactly around for the sorting in second year, was I?" Ron said flatly.

"Oh. Right," Hermione said. "Well, there was also one in third year, and you've no excuse for not noticing _that year_."

Ron frowned, clearly not remembering this. "Fine, whatever. So how is it done?"

"The transfer student is sorted after all of the first years are done," Hermione said simply.

"Why didn't you just _say that?"_

"So where are you expecting?" Luna asked Tom, ignoring Ron and Hermione's distraction.

"Slytherin," Tom responded simply.

Ron made a choking sound. "Whut?" he exclaimed.

"Is that really so surprising?" Tom said with a mild chuckle.

Hermione looked thoughtfully. "Well, not entirely, I suppose. I was thinking Ravenclaw, personally."

Ron twisted up his face, looking Tom over as if seeing him for the first time. "Does Harry know this?"

Tom laughed. "Yes, Harry knows. Although he actually had the gall to tell me he thought the Hat might suggest Hufflepuff. Something about me being loyal to those I feel responsible for, and my willingness to put in the hard work and effort for difficult tasks. I told him, if the hat tried to put me in Hufflepuff I'd set it on fire."

Luna giggled.

— —

"So what was it like?" Ron asked Harry and Neville as he pulled his robes on over his clothes, later that evening.

"Boring and exhausting," Harry grumbled. "Tom was right about Slughorn handpicking people he thinks will be important, or who have important relatives. "One bloke, Belby, was in there only because his uncle invented the Wolfsbane potion and got an Order of Merlin for it. But once Belby told Slughorn that his dad and uncle don't get on, so he doesn't really know the man, Slughorn basically ignored him for the rest of the meeting."

"Ginny was there too," Neville added once he had his own robes on over his clothes.

"What!?" Ron exclaimed, clearly very affronted. "Why was _she_ there?"

"Apparently Slughorn saw her get Zacharais Smith with a Bat Boogey hex and he was impressed enough that he invited her without even knowing who she was. She said she was afraid he was going to give her detention, but then he invited her to lunch instead."

Ron dropped himself down into his seat unceremoniously and pouted.

"You really didn't miss anything, Ron. Believe me. It was awful," Harry said sitting down beside Tom who was already wearing a set of plain black robes.

"I bet the food was better at least," Ron groused.

"Well, there is that," Neville said concedingly. Ron looked annoyed again and Harry shot Neville a look that clearly said not to say anything else.

"Hmph… so were you invited because of the Ministry?" Ron asked Neville.

"No, he didn't even know about that. He was surprised when he found out Ginny and I had been there."

Ron frowned. "So why'd he invite you?"

Hermione jabbed Ron in the ribs, glaring at him slightly. "Whut?" Ron said defensively.

"Er… he mostly asked me about my parents," Neville said quietly.

"Oh." Ron went a bit pink at this and slumped back in his seat.

Finally the train arrived at the station and everyone started to clamber into the halls and out the exits. They each left their pets by the pile of luggage as it was unloaded from the luggage compartment, since the house elves would be collecting it all and transporting it to the proper rooms during the feast.

"So is Tom supposed to go with the first years?" Ron asked, seeing Hagrid collecting the first years at the head of the path that led down to the boats.

Hermione frowned. "I don't know that, actually."

"The first years always arrive later than the rest of us taking the carts," Harry said. "I don't see why Tom can't go with us but wait by the entry to the antechamber where McGonagall greets the First Years."

"I'll go with that. Being surrounded by eleven year olds in tiny boats doesn't entirely appeal to me," said Tom.

"You could always take the same boat as Hagrid instead," Luna offered up.

"That appeals to me even less," Tom said, looking rather dubiously horrified with the suggestion.

"I never understood how he could get into one of those things and not sink," Ron mused as the group headed towards the carriages.

As they passed the first carriage, Tom's hand absently traveled up and stroked along the stringy mane of one of the Thestrals.

"You see them too?" Luna asked, her eyes brightening.

"Hmm? Oh," Tom hesitated, his hand in mid-air, as it dawned on him exactly what he was doing. Then he looked at Luna curiously. "You see them?"

"Oh yes," she nodded smiling simply.

"Who…?"

"My mother."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Tom said with a small dip of his head.

"Thank you. It was a long time ago now. But I still miss her. Who did you see die?"

Tom became aware that Ron, Hermione, and Neville were looking at him with considerable curiosity. "A homeless man. It was winter in London. He had frostbite on his toes and fingers and hadn't eaten in days. He tried to stay warm, and I stayed with him… but I could tell he wouldn't make it through the night. It was just too cold. I never even knew his name."

The group climbed into the carriage and it was silent for several long moments as the carriage began to move up the road towards the castle.

"How old were you?" Hermione asked finally.

"I was eight. It was my first winter on my own after running away from my last foster family."

"Blimey," Ron said, shaking his head. "I can't even imagine that."

"You're better off not trying. Lets change the subject. Death is always a rather grim topic," Tom said.

Conversation was light during the brief trip up the winding road to Hogwarts and soon enough the carriage came to a stop in front of the castle and the group piled out. They made their way through the large double doors into the entrance hall with the throngs of other students. Hermione made it her task to guide Tom over to the antechamber where the 1st years would be welcomed and Tom followed. He gave Harry a small smile and a wave as he perched himself against the wall beside the door and Harry was slowly dragged into the hall by his friends. Just as Tom was about out of sight, Harry saw McGonagall approaching him, so he figured that was probably all set to go.

Harry let out a long breath trying to calm his nerves. Part of him still felt rather incredulous over the whole situation, while another part was exceedingly excited by it.

Finally he found a seat along the Gryffindor table with his friends and settled into the din of excited chatter. He casually joined in on some of the conversation going on around the table but his eyes kept slipping back to the door to the antechamber, wondering how long it would be before the first years were brought in.

He and Tom had agreed to sequester themselves in their beds with a silence ward at ten o'clock that night and use their watches to talk, so Harry knew he'd still get to talk to Tom again that night, but doubted he'd have a lot of frequent opportunities after that right away. He wondered how many classes they'd actually share in common. Tom wasn't taking any of the elective courses since he didn't have the OWLs on record to qualify for any of them. The Gryffindors had always shared Potions and Herbology with Slytherin, so Harry was expecting that to be the same this year, but outside of those two classes, Harry didn't expect to have a lot of time where he would normally have much opportunity to interact with someone from Slytherin house. The only variable was that, what with it being NEWT level classes now, fewer students were taking some subjects, so it was possible some classes would be further combined.

There really weren't a lot of places to just _hang out_ around the school with people from different houses. The common rooms were the most comfortable and casual places, and those were house specific. He supposed they'd probably spend a decent amount of time in the Library, and while Tom would probably be perfectly comfortable there, and Hermione would be thrilled, Harry would really rather spend a little less time around so many books.

Outside of that, Harry could really only think of the Room of Requirement, and he supposed that would really just have to be sufficient. It _could_ become whatever you needed, after all.

The door to the antechamber opened and McGonagall came out. She went to the front of the hall and placed the little three-legged stool down and the sorting hat was placed on top of it a moment later. She then returned to the antechamber and a moment after _that_ she reappeared again, but this time with a group of tiny first years streaming right after her. And then Tom. Harry couldn't help but grin and snicker at the sight of him coming in behind all of those little eleven year olds.

 _Great Merlin, Tom was a Hogwarts. How surreal._

Once the group of students had been settled into a line, the Sorting Hat sang it's song, which seemed exceedingly long this year, and rather doom-and-gloom, if Harry said so himself. Finally the hat shut up and the sorting began.

Harry hadn't felt this anxious during a sorting since his own, and the fact that Tom would be the _last_ one sorted, only made it worse. A couple of the firsties were hatstalls, and Harry caught himself biting his nails in anxious frustration wishing for it to get over with faster.

 _Finally_ , the last of the first years was sorted and McGonnagal called out "Thomlyn Moore, who will be sorted and transferred in with the sixth years."

Tom walked forward with the same calm grace he usually projected, but Harry could see subtle hints of nerves. Tom had expressed a concern the day before over giving the hat access to his mind. Harry had wondered the same thing, in fact.

Tom sat on the stool, which looked comical, since he was considerably larger than the first years who usually sat upon it, and then McGonagall dropped the hat upon his head. Unlike the first years, it _did not_ fall low enough to completely cover Tom's eyes, so Harry could still see his face.

Tom closed his eyes and his brow puckered with apparent concentration. Harry watched, apprehensive and shaky, as Tom's face slowly slipped through subtle expressions. Harry's nerves only increased as the seconds ticked on - and then the _minutes_. Harry had to admit that he'd honestly expected Tom's time under the hat to be rather brief - Tom himself had said his first sorting was virtually instantaneous - and the duration of _this_ sorting only served to fuel Harry's fears that the hat could tell who Tom really was. Perhaps Tom was trying to convince it to not tell Dumbledore the truth?

A dozen different fears flew through Harry's mind and suddenly, at the three and a half minute mark, the rip in the hat opened and the voice called out, " _Gryffindor!"_

Harry's jaw dropped.

Tom looked just as dumbfounded. He seemed to remain rooted to the stool in utter astonishment for several moments, and McGonagall had to actually pluck the hat off of his head to jolt him out of it.

Tom seemed to be in a bit of a daze as he walked down the aisle towards Harry. Harry was aware that there was clapping going on around him, and Hermione was encouraging Seamus to scoot down a bit, to make room for Tom beside Harry, but it was like he was hearing all of this from somewhere deep underwater.

Tom saw the opening and made his way there, coming to sit beside Harry with a slight wobble.

" _Gryffindor_ ," he rasped as he finally sat down.

"Holy hell! How the heck did this happen!?" Harry practically squawked, finally snapping out of his stupor and gaping at him.

Tom's jaw seemed to work for a moment but no words came out. He closed it, swallowed and glanced around, blinking several times as if to try and shake himself out of his daze.

"It — it said you were my compass and if I didn't follow you, I might lose my way and tread the wrong path."

Harry blinked, rather stunned by that statement. It was also rather sweet, in a mildly foreboding sort of way. Tom leaned in closer then. "It also seemed to suggest that if it had sorted me where I _belonged_ that I might succumb to… _temptation_. It… it made me choose. It said it was my choice to make."

"And you _choose_ Gryffindor?"

"I choose _you_."

Harry paused, gaping but slowly he closed his mouth and smiled softly at Tom for a moment before it morphed into an amused grin and a chuckle. "Merlin, how sappy are we?"

Tom snorted.

"Hey, congrats!" Ron's voice broke in and pulled them out of their isolated little world. "And here you sounded so sure you'd end up on Slytherin!"

Tom laughed weakly. "Eh heh… yeah."

"Wow, Gryffindor! How do you feel?" Hermione asked.

"A bit, stunned, to be honest," Tom admitted.

"Hey, there! I'm Seamus Finnigan. Sixth year," Seamus said with a slight wave of his hand to Tom. "You know these lot already, do you?"

"Oh yeah, we met over the summer," Ron confirmed. "Er, but Harry's known him longer, I guess. Sort of…"

"Hi, I'm Dean Thomas. Also sixth year," Dean said, reaching across the table and offering his hand. Tom shook it politely and gave a slight nod of his head.

"I'm Thomlyn Moore. Or just Tom is fine. It's a pleasure to meet you both."

"So, wow. New roommate. It's gonna get a bit crowded in the tower, eh?" Seamus said with a laugh.

They quieted down a moment later as Dumbledore took to the center podium and began to make his welcoming speech. Harry looked sideways to Tom to find him seeming to stare at something that wasn't quite in the right direction for Dumbledore. He followed his gaze and saw that Snape was staring _hard_ in their direction. His eyes were narrowed and calculating.

Harry glanced back at Tom and found his brow puckered and a small frown plastered firmly on his lips.

"What's up?" Harry whispered to Tom.

Tom sighed, grimaced, and looked back at Harry with a tired expression. "I really screwed up…"

"Being sorted into Gryffindor?"

Tom quickly shook his head. "No, not that. Just… letting that cover-story slip to Severus. I'd been tossing it around in my head for some time, and while it seemed like a good idea one moment, I'd talk myself out of it the next. I knew it was probably a bad idea to let myself actually move on the idea, and I'd basically talked myself out of it. Then I just went and… said it anyway."

"Oh. Hmm… Yeah, I'm still not sure what to make of that. I mean, it seems kind of risky letting that idea get out there. Not really sure why you'd even want to."

"It provides me with an avenue to hold onto things I know I should probably let go of. It's… it's the sort of thing the hat warned me about."

"Oh?… hmm. I _guess_ I can maybe see how that could happen."

"It's really just this temptation to hold onto things from my past. I need to move on — to distance myself from it all completely. But this cover story provides me with a loop hole and I just… I shouldn't…" Tom sighed and shook his head weekly. "We can talk later."

Harry nodded his understanding and refocused on Dumbledore just as he finished his speech. Dumbledore clapped his hands together with a flourish and all of the tables suddenly filled with food and the hall erupted in excited chatter.

"Oh _Merlin_ , look at that," Harry exclaimed, laughing with mild incredulity a moment later. Tom looked at him in confusion before following Harry's eyes down to his own chest. His eyes bugged out slightly as he saw that his previously plain black robes now bore the Gryffindor crest upon it. His tie, which had also been plain black before, was now striped in red and gold.

"Bloody hell, this is surreal," He rasped. "I'm a Gryffindor!"

Harry barked out a laugh before partially covering his mouth and just snickering instead.

"Not what you were expecting?" Seamus asked from Tom's other side.

"I… no." Tom shook his head. "It was _not_ what I was expecting."

"Oh the train he told _us_ he thought he'd end up in Slytherin," Ron said as he reached out and began to shovel food onto his plate.

"Oh yeah?" Seamus asked, looking at him curiously.

"Er yeah, uhm… my… father was in Slytherin. And any and all family before him, from what I've gathered, was as well," Tom said before sighing and just reaching out to get some food for himself, clearly eager to try and change the subject.

"Eh? So is your family gonna be upset with you being sorted into Gryffindor, then?" Seamus asked.

"Tom's an orphan," Hermione said.

Seamus blinked at her for a moment before looking back at Tom with a small grimace. "Oh - well, then I guess they won't mind."

Tom chuckled weakly, shook his head and shrugged. "I suppose not."

The meal progressed in earnest then, with everyone eagerly loading up their plates and genial conversation filling the hall. Plenty of focus was given to Tom from their year mates, and Harry could tell that Tom was less than thrilled with the attention, but kept his polite mask up and answered questions whenever they were posed.

"Wait, so how do you two know each other?" Lavender Brown asked a ways into the meal, as plates were emptying and conversation had picked up. She looked between Harry and Tom from her spot several seats further down, just past Neville and next to Parvati.

Tom looked to Harry with a questioning sort of look and Harry felt himself pull in a deep breath, realizing he needed to make the decision as to just how honest they were going to be up front, or if they were going to try and…

He pushed the breath out, shaking his head to himself somewhat, realizing that the idea of trying to keep it secret was utterly unappealing.

"We started writing each other about a year ago - sort of a penpal deal. Then we met in person at the start of the summer and spent almost the whole two and a half months either at his place or mine," Harry said, as casually as he could manage with his heart pounding away nervously on his chest. "I guess it was somewhere in the middle there that we started officially dating."

Lavender blinked at him for several beats. "Dating?" she finally asked, sounding both incredulous and bewildered.

Harry's gaze remained mostly on his plate, acting as nonchalant as possible. "Mmhmm, yeah. I guess that's why Dumbledore was so interested in getting Tom to transfer to Hogwarts. He figured if I was dating someone who lived off campus I'd end up sneaking off to see him."

Lavender's eyes were huge and _hungry_ for details. Harry gave her a cautious sideways glance and grimaced. He knew this was _the_ fasted way to get this news out into the general public, but he still kind of hated it.

"You two… are _dating?_ " she asked again, for clarification.

Harry made a humming sort of sound and nodded his head, taking that moment to take a bite of the pie in front of him, rather than make eye contact.

"Like _dating, dating?_ " Parvati's voice broke in, sounding _excited_.

"Wait, whut?" Seamus asked, blinking at them from Tom's other side.

"And they're gonna let you two share a dorm?" Dean asked with a laugh, amusement clearly in his voice. "Bloody hell, are we gonna have to keep an eye on you two? Make sure no one is sneaking into someone else's bed at night?"

Seamus snorted. "Don't be daft, you can't cock-block a bloke like that! Sharing a dorm with his boyfriend? You can't have a more prime opportunity! As long as they use silencing charms, I say we leave them be. Just… you know, don't break up and start some sort of barmy drama in the dorm room, because that'd be really annoying."

Harry choked on the bite of pie currently in his mouth while Tom snorted beside him.

"Well, I'm grateful for your sentiments, Seamus," Tom said, chuckling lightly. "And I'm hopeful that Harry will tolerate me for the whole of the school year. —Beyond if I'm truly fortunate, but I suppose only time will tell."

Harry looked over at Tom then, reached his hand out and lay it over top of Tom's, giving it a squeeze. Tom smiled back.

"Wo-ow," Parvati said with exaggerated emphasis, gaping at Harry for a moment before something of a lightbulb seemed to go off in her mind. "This explains so much about the Yule Ball!"

Harry made another choking sound, while Seamus burst out laughing.

Tom's eyes lit up a bit. "Are you the one he took to the dance?"

Parvati smiled prettily and seemed to primp at her hair a bit. "I am. Although Harry dear wasn't much of a date. I suppose I can forgive him now, given the _extenuating circumstances_. I rather doubt Padma will _ever_ forgive _Ron_ , though."

"Oi! What'd I do wrong?" Ron exclaimed.

Parvati and Lavender both gave him flat glares.

"If you have to ask that question, then you're _clearly_ hopeless," Parvati said.

"Unless you're gay too," Lavender added. Her brow creased with a small pucker for a moment before her eyes went somewhat wide as she looked back at Ron. "You're not, are you?" she asked, sounding rather horrified by the prospect.

"NO!" Ron exclaimed instantly, holding his hands up before grimacing and glancing over at Harry. "Not that there's anything _wrong_ with that.. just… I'm not."

Harry couldn't help but laugh, and Tom snickered beside him.

Finally the last of the deserts were cleared and Dumbledore took to the podium once again, spoke for a brief time, and called the feast to a close with a pass at singing the school song to whatever tune each person felt was most appropriate - which was awful, but also fairy business as usual.

Tom had stared at Dumbledore with dumbfounded shock as the whole thing proceeded before looking at Harry with incredulous questioning in his gaze.

"Not how they did it when you were younger, eh?" Harry whispered to Tom when it had all finished and the students began to stand, and the prefects gathered the first years.

Tom snorted. "Most certainly _not._ Headmaster Dippet wasn't nearly as… _eccentric_ , as Dumbledore," Tom whispered back and Harry chuckled.

Hermione helped to corral the first years with great zeal while Ron put forth the least amount of enthusiasm for the task as was possible. Harry and Tom followed along with them, and pretty much the majority of the rest of the Gryffindors as the group left the Great Hall and began making their way further into and up the castle towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

"Do you already know where it is?" Harry whispered to Tom.

"I'm aware of the location," Tom said with a nod. "Actually entered the common room once, but it's been a very, _very_ long time."

"Dare I ask what you were doing in the Gryffindor Common Room?" Harry asked with a single arched brow.

Tom smiled and shook his head. "Hardly matters."

"Watch the step!" Hermione's voice called out just as the three first years who were directly in front of Tom and Harry reached one of many of the notorious trick steps that littered various stairwells throughout Hogwarts. Tom reached out and caught one of the students just as his foot sank through the false step, and managed to prevent him from taking a spill.

"You'll want to keep an eye on that one. It's predictable - it's _always_ fake," Hermione was saying in her lecturing tone as she continued to lead the group further up the Grand Staircase towards the seventh floor.

Finally they reached a stretch of wall with the large portrait of the Fat Lady in a pink dress.

"Ab absurdo," Hermione spoke in a loud clear voice to the painting which then swung to the side, revealing a circular hole behind it, and the common room beyond. "Make sure to remember the password, as if you forget it, you'll be stuck out here until someone else comes along to let you in. The password is changed once a week on Sundays and is posted on the board, right over here —" She guided the group of eleven year olds to the bulletin board along the wall not far from the entrance.

Harry jerked his head to the side and Tom nodded. The pair left Hermione and the firsties and made their way further into the common room. Tom walked somewhat slowly, looking around with rather wide eyes as he took the space in.

"This is seriously bizarre," Tom muttered.

Harry snickered. "You've said that several times tonight."

"Then I haven't said it enough," Tom chuckled. "Merlin there is _far_ too much red in this room."

Harry guffawed. "Yeah, well I'll take it over the Slytherin common room _any_ day. The whole black leather with skull buttons, and green glowing light from the lake was _creepy_."

"Oh ho? And _what_ pray tell were you doing in _there?"_

Harry chuckled and shrugged. "Hardly matters," he echoed Tom's words from earlier, earning him an eye roll. "Come on, lets check out the dorm room."

Harry made his way through the growing crowd of the common room towards the stairs that led up towards the boys dormitories with Tom trailing directly behind him. They reached the third landing and a sign was placed beside the door that read 'Sixth Years'. Harry pulled it open and quickly entered. He paused and looked around, blinking slightly.

"Weird."

"What's weird?"

"This is the same room that we've had since we started back in first year, but I'd swear it's bigger."

"Space expansion, no doubt," Tom stated with a shrug.

"Oh brilliant," Harry said with a grin as he went over to his bed and noted that the newly added four-poster bed that currently had Tom's trunk sitting beside it, had been added directly to the left of Harry's bed. To the right was Ron's and the rest of the room remained the same.

Tom chuckled and sat on his bed, bouncing slightly to test it out and running his hand over the beddings appreciatively. "So what do you think, Harry? Will we be taking advantage of the situation and sneaking into each others beds as Seamus suggested?"

Harry flushed and ducked his head, but the grin on his lips was impossible to hid. "Maybe," He said, grinning cheekily.

Tom grinned as well for a moment longer before letting out a small sigh and looking around the room. "A new beginning…" he said softly.

"What's that?"

"Just something the hat said."

"How'd that go, anyway? Did it realize…"

"It never _explicitly_ said anything to suggest it knew who I er… used to be. And yet it _did_ seem to understand things that might suggest otherwise. I did ask it if there was any guarantee of privacy, or if it might go discussing what it found in my head with the Headmaster, and it said that what was discussed between the hat and I, would remain between the hat and I. Hopefully, that's true."

"Yeah, hopefully."

"Well, I know it's a bit early still, but I'm feeling rather knackered. I might just call it a night," Tom said as he hopped off his bed, popped open his trunk and began to dig around inside.

Harry yawned and shrugged. "Yeah, I could probably do the same."

They each prepared for bed and made their trips to the loo. Neville came up during this time and began to get ready as well. By the time both Harry and Tom were ready, Ron entered the dorm room and began getting ready as well.

They each climbed into bed, closed their bed hangings, called out their good nights and went to bed. Though, it wasn't too much longer after that when Tom slipped from his bed and crawled into Harry's bed.

Not that Harry was complaining.

— — —


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Harry woke the next morning to find that the other side of his bed was empty and cold. He blinked blearily before reaching blindly out through his hangings to his side-table and grabbed his glasses.

He shifted across the bed, pulling the hangings back and looked over to Tom's bed. He frowned as he found it was equally empty. He slipped out of the bed, tiptoeing across the gap between their beds and glanced around, hoping for some clue. His eyes fell upon a piece of parchment folded and tucked just under the edge of Tom's pillow. He picked it up and frowned at the writing there that looked illegible for several moments before the letters seemed to wiggle and move into English.

He blinked at it several times before fully realizing he could now read it.

 _I'm in the room of requirement._

 _-A safe and secure place to perform a ritual-_

The room of requirement? The second line seemed awkward for all of a moment before he registered that it was probably the description that Tom used to summon the room, so that Harry could summon it as well.

His mind went back to the funny writing and it only took a moment to realize that the writing on the paper had looked strange because it was parselscript. He looked at it more curiously after that, intrigued by the idea that this innate ability he had to understand parseltongue without even realizing it worked even in writing. He pushed the curiosity aside though as Tom's absence was a much more pressing issue.

Harry glanced around the dorm room and it was clear that no one else was awake. It was still slightly dim with only the slightest indication of sunlight peaking over the horizon beyond the window, but Harry grabbed his wand and cast a _tempus_ charm to be sure.

There was still an hour before Ron's alarm charm would go off, so Harry felt safe in slipping out.

He quickly went through a rushed version of his morning necessities and got dressed before slipping out of the dorm and down through the common room. He made his way to the stretch of corridor on the seventh floor where the entrance to the Room of Requirement was located. He walked back and forth past the spot three times while repeating in his head 'a safe and secure place to perform a ritual' until the door suddenly materialized.

He pulled it open a small amount and quickly slipped inside. The room was large and mostly quite dim with smooth grey flagstones for floor, wide pillars around the outside, and a huge open space in the center with light shinning down on it from a skylight. In the center of the illuminated center was a hunched over figure that Harry recognized instantly. He rushed over, slowing as he got closer and pausing to take in what he was seeing.

Tom was shaking lightly, slumped on the floor in the center of a familiar-looking runic circle drawn in salt. The design was disturbed and distorted, telling Harry that the ritual was already done since it had been protected during the actual ritual the last time.

"Tom? Tom?" Harry asked worriedly as he knelt down and gently reached out to rest his hand on Tom's back.

Tom jerked and sucked in a startled breath before pushing it back out slowly and beginning to shakily push himself up into a sitting position. "Harry?"

"What the hell are you doing?" Harry asked, mildly annoyed as much as he was worried. Tom seemed to swallow thickly before reaching out and picking something that had been sitting in the center of the circle with him and handing it over to Harry.

Harry took it and frowned at it in confusion. It looked like some ornate silvery tiara with a blue gem set into the center. "What —?" Harry began but trailed off as it registered what it was. "The diadem," Harry said, answering his own question. "This was the horcrux that you said was hidden in Hogwarts?"

Tom nodded and sighed before reaching up and examining his fingernails. "Not a lot of growth this time… is it bad?"

"Huh?"

Tom motioned towards his face with a circular motion of his hand. "Did I de-age much?"

"Oh! Huh…" Harry paused, examining Tom's features with more actual attention now. "Not really that I can tell. You're hair is a bit longer than it was yesterday, but that's it, really. Tom — why didn't you tell me you were going to do this? Why not wake me when you slipped out?"

Tom shook his head. "I didn't want to wake you. You need your sleep — it's the first day of classes."

"Its the first day of classes for you too," Harry argued.

"I _had_ to do this. There was no need for both of us to be worn out."

"But _why_? Why did you do this and not even mention it?"

Tom chuckled weakly and shrugged. "It actually only really occurred to me last night. Which is stupid, really. I should have thought this through sooner, it just kept slipping my mind. But I woke up in the middle of the night and realized suddenly that if I was going to reabsorb the horcrux from the diadem, I had to do it tonight, or else I'd probably have to wait till winter break."

"Why?"

"Because of the de-aging. I knew my appearance might change from doing this. At this point, the only people who have had any regular exposure to me are you, Ron, Hermione, and, to a lesser extent, Ginny and the twins. So there's still the risk of some of them taking notice that my looks altered a bit, but I was hoping it would be subtle enough that they could probably brush it off. But it's easier to disregard a shift in appearance during a time of transition than it is when it happens out of the blue. We're changing from being in dimly lit Grimmauld Place every day to suddenly being at the school with school robes on every day. It'll be easier for them to rationalize some perceived shift in my appearance. But if it happened in the middle of the first term out of the blue, a lot more people would be accustomed to my appearance, and more people would notice something had changed."

"Ah… okay," Harry said with dawning understanding. "You still should have woken me. I'm sure you could have used the company. I know these aren't… _pleasant_ for you."

Tom made a glum scoffing sort of sound. "It shouldn't be _pleasant_. But it doesn't matter. It's done." He shifted and pushed himself up off the floor, standing and groaning miserably as he did so before taking a moment to stretch his arms and twist his back, as if he were working out the kinks.

"Oh…"

"Hmm?" Tom said, turning and looking at Harry curiously. Harry's eyes were a bit wider and Tom felt worry fill him for all of a moment before he realized the same thing and groaned miserably. "I'm shorter," he moaned.

"Wow… I think _I'm_ actually taller than _you_ now," Harry exclaimed.

"It doesn't hurt that you had a growth spurt this summer," Tom said with a sigh as he turned away, drew his wand, and summoned a full-length standing mirror a few feet in front of him. He took a moment to examine his features more closely, frowning slightly and then taking a moment to adjust his hair length with his wand.

He bent over and picked up his shoes, which had been set to the side of the ritual space, and tapping each of them with his wand.

"What are you doing?"

"Turning them into elevator shoes."

"Elevator shoes?" Harry echoed in bewilderment.

"I'm making the shoe soles thicker and adding a thick insole to try and make up for my new lack in height."

Harry laughed and Tom gave him a mild glare before sighing and chuckling himself. "It's absurd. I can't believe I'm shorter than you now."

"Bloody hell, what's gonna happen when you _do_ get the Cup from Bellatrix? That one has a bigger piece of your soul than the Diadem did, right?"

Tom grumbled and shrugged as he bent down and put the modified shoes on. He took a few experimental steps in them before turning to face Harry more directly. "Better," he said reluctantly, as he was now almost returned to his previous height. They were about equal now, more than anything else.

"You are correct in that. Hufflepuff's cup was the fourth horcrux while the Diadem was the fifth. The cup will have twice as much as the diadem did. I'd like to hope it won't be that huge of an impact though, since the diadem obviously put me just beyond the growth spurt I had around age 16. I remained about the same height from 14 to 15… well, in any case, I'll wait until I'm at a break from classes to absorb the cup. Winter holidays, I would expect. If it does turn out to be too large and inconvenient of a change, I'll probably resort to some growth potions."

Harry nodded and the two of them gathered up the few things that Tom had brought with him. They decided to head back to Gryffindor Tower to gather their school things and wait for Ron and Hermione. When they did get back to the dorm, it was just as Neville and Dean were getting up, and it was only about ten minutes or so until Harry expected Ron's alarm spell to go off, so he nudged him a bit, hoping to hurry things along.

Ron finally grumbled his way out of bed and started getting ready while Harry and Tom went down to the Common Room to wait.

Hermione joined them not too long after that, and finally Ron appeared from the stairs so that the four of them could begin to make their way to breakfast. There was a bit of a queue lined up by the portrait hole to get out of the Common Room, as the door _was_ relatively small, and the number of students wanting to get out was quite large. Harry tried valiantly to ignore all the stares from the surrounding students, but knew he patience was going to run thin very quickly. People were whispering to their friends, stealing quick glances his way and whispering some more. Their lack of subtlety only made it that much more irritating.

"It's rude to point," Ron snapped at a particularly minuscule first-year boy, who had been muttering something about Harry behind his hand to his friend. He promptly turned scarlet and toppled out of the hole in alarm. Ron sniggered.

"I love being a sixth year. And we're going to be getting free time this year. Whole periods when we can just sit up here and relax."

"We're going to need that time for studying, Ron!" said Hermione, as they set off down the corridor.

"Yes, as I understand it, the quantity of homework piled upon the students in sixth year is quite substantial," Tom added.

"Yeah, well at least our free time _today_ has got to be clear. Today's going to be a real doss, I reckon," Ron said as the four finally managed to get out of the Common Room and begin making their way through the corridors, towards the Great Hall.

Just as they were entering the Great Hall, they ran into Hagrid who greeted them cheerily.

"Ah, and who's this 'er?" Hagrid said, looking at Tom.

"Thomlyn Moore," Tom replied easily.

"Yeah, yeah, tha's right. I er… r'member hearin' about ye. At the, er… meet'ns. Missed meeting ya then. Pleased ta meet ya now, though."

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, sir. Harry has spoken frequently and very highly of you."

Hagrid flushed and grinned, looking over at Harry with a rather pleased yet bashful sort of expression. Or at least as much of one as could be seen beneath his overly bushy beard.

"I noticed you were late for the feast last night, Hagrid," Hermione said as they slowed in their journey towards the Gryffindor table and came to a stop along the side wall.

"Ah, yeah. I was with Grawp," said Hagrid happily. "Er — tha's my half-brother," he added to Tom. "Los' track o' the time. He's got a new home up in the mountains now, Dumbledore fixed it — nice big cave. He's much happier than he was in the forest. We were havin' a good chat."

"Really?" Harry said, sounding a mix of skeptical and surprised. The last time he had met Hagrid's half-brother, a vicious giant with a talent for ripping up trees by the roots, his vocabulary had comprised five words, two of which he was unable to pronounce properly.

"Oh yeah, he's really come on," said Hagrid proudly. "Yeh'll be amazed. I'm thinkin' o' trainin' him up as me assistant."

Ron snorted loudly, but managed to pass it off as a violent sneeze.

"Anyway, I'll see yeh this aft'rnoon, firs' lesson's straight after lunch." Raising an arm in cheery farewell, he headed up the aisle towards the head table.

"Er…" Ron said, suddenly looking rather uneasy before looking back at Harry and the others. Harry knew that Ron was experiencing the same sinking feeling he just had.

"Are any of you actually taking his class?" Tom asked the question that was obviously on all of their minds. Harry grimaced and shook his head.

"I'm not," Ron added.

Hermione sighed worriedly. "Neither am I."

With a sense of foreboding the group pressed on and finally took their seats at the table. They each grabbed plates and loaded up porridge, eggs, and bacon before resuming their earlier conversation.

"He can't honestly think we'd continue Care of Magical Creatures, can he?" Hermione said with a distressed moan. "I mean, when has any of us expressed . . . you know . . . any enthusiasm?"

"That's it, though, innit?" said Ron, swallowing an entire fried egg whole. "We were the ones who made the most effort in classes because we like Hagrid. But he thinks we liked the stupid subject. D'you reckon anyone's going to go on to N.E.W.T.?"

Neither Harry nor Hermione answered; there was no need. They knew perfectly well that nobody in their year would want to continue Care of Magical Creatures. They avoided Hagrid's eye and returned his cheery wave only halfheartedly when he left the staff table ten minutes later.

After they had eaten, they remained in their places, awaiting Professor McGonagall's descent from the staff table. The distribution of class schedules was more complicated than usual this year, for Professor McGonagall needed first to confirm that everybody had achieved the necessary O.W.L. grades to continue with their chosen N.E.W.T.s.

Hermione was immediately cleared to continue with Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, Herbology, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, and Potions, and shot off to a first-period Ancient Runes class without further ado.

McGonagall worked her way through Neville's time-table and then Parvati Patil's before turning to Harry, Tom, and Ron.

"Let's see… Mr. Moore, you're signed up for Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, Herbology and Potions… and all are clear. I take it you didn't take any O.W.L. exams at the Ministry for any of the standard elective courses?"

"That's right," Tom said with a shrug. "The tests aren't free, and I didn't see a lot of value in taking on a bunch of extra subjects at the time. I knew I could always schedule tests in the future if I came across a reason to have the test results on file."

She hummed and nodded her head before turning her gaze on Harry.

"So, Potter, Potter . . ." said Professor McGonagall, consulting her notes. "Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Herbology, Transfiguration . . . all fine. I must say, I was pleased with your Transfiguration mark. Very pleased."

Harry felt himself flush slightly, caught off guard by her unexpected praise.

"And I see you signed up for Advanced Potions as well. With Professor Slughorn now teaching the class, you're cleared for that as well. Alright Potter, here is your schedule. Oh, by the way — twenty hopefuls have already put down their names for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I shall pass the list to you in due course and you can fix up trials at your leisure."

A few minutes later, Ron was cleared to do the same subjects as Harry and Tom, and the three of them left the table together.

"Look," said Ron delightedly, gazing at his schedule, "we've got a free period now . . . and a free period after break . . . and after lunch . . . excellent!"

"A free period first thing Monday morning will likely be a boon," Tom remarked thoughtfully. "Last minute crunch on Sunday nights to work through homework is likely to be a regular occurrence - or so I understand it, anyway. The extra time to sleep in the next morning will be beneficial."

Ron screwed up his face at Tom looking torn between skepticism and horror.

They returned to the common room, which was empty apart from a half dozen seventh years, including Katie Bell, the only remaining member of the original Gryffindor Quidditch team that Harry had joined in his first year.

She came over and congratulated Harry on being appointed Captain of the team and told him to let her know when he'd decided on when to hold tryouts.

"Don't be stupid," said Harry, "you don't need to try out, I've watched you play for five years. . . ."

"You mustn't start off like that," she said warningly. "For all you know, there's someone much better than me out there. Good teams have been ruined before now because Captains just kept playing the old faces, or letting in their friends. . . ."

Ron looked a little uncomfortable, and quickly became very distracted by his book bag on the floor beside the couch he was sitting on. He turned his gaze on Tom a moment later, clearly searching for any valid distraction. "What about you? Think you'll try out for the team?"

"Me?" Tom said, with mildly amused incredulity. "Oh no. I don't play Quidditch."

"Have you ever tried?" Harry asked, his own interest suddenly piqued.

"Tried playing _Quidditch?"_ Tom said with a laugh. "Erm… well, _no_ _._ Not exactly. Besides, I'm not much of a team player. I think Seeker is the only position I'd be cut out for, and I'm fairly sure that the team already has one of those."

Harry chuckled. "Wait, are you saying I've finally found something that you're not miraculously perfect at?"

"I think we've established that I'm rather poor at feeding myself. If it weren't for you, I doubt I would have had a single meal this whole summer that wasn't purchased at a restaurant or a pub."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Thats such a waste of money."

"Perhaps, but it was a worthwhile expense in my book."

They managed to keep busy for the next hour until they reluctantly left the sunlit common room for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom four floors below. Hermione was already queuing outside, carrying an armful of heavy books and looking put-upon.

"We got so much homework for Runes," she said anxiously, when Harry and Ron joined her. "A fifteen-inch essay, two translations, and I've got to read these by Wednesday!"

"Shame," yawned Ron.

"You wait," she said resentfully. "I bet Snape gives us loads."

"I'd be curious to look over what you're actually covering in Runes," Tom said, tilting his head slightly and peering at the names on the spines of the books she was carrying.

"Have you done much study of Ancient Runes?" she asked, perking up slightly.

"Mmm, yes. I just didn't bother to take an O.W.L. exam in the subject. I probably would have liked to sign up for the class if I had, but it never occurred to me that I'd ever be doing something like this."

The door to the Defense classroom opened a moment later and Snape appeared in the opening, stepping out into the corridor and looking down on them all with imperious disdain. Silence fell over the queue immediately.

"Inside," Snape drawled with a sneer and the gathered group quickly began to file inside.

Harry couldn't help but noticed that Snape's calculating glare lingered on Tom more than on anyone else.

Harry looked around the room as he took a seat and grimaced at Snape's less than stellar taste in decorating. Harry had seen this classroom take on many different appearances over the years, but this one, he decided, was his least favorite of them all.

New pictures adorned the walls, many of them showing people who appeared to be in pain, sporting grisly injuries or strangely contorted body parts. Nobody spoke as they settled down, looking around at the shadowy, gruesome pictures.

"I have not asked you to take out your books," said Snape, closing the door and moving to face the class from behind his desk; Hermione hastily dropped her copy of Confronting the Faceless back into her bag and stowed it under her chair.

"I wish to speak to you, and I want your fullest attention," Snape said as his black eyes roved over their upturned faces, lingering quite a bit longer on Tom than anyone else's, though his gaze fell upon Harry a moment later and stayed there for nearly as long.

"You have had five teachers in this subject so far, I believe. Naturally, these teachers will all have had their own methods and priorities. Given this confusion I am surprised so many of you scraped an O.W.L. in this subject. I shall be even more surprised if all of you manage to keep up with the N.E.W.T. work, which will be much more advanced."

Snape set off around the edge of the room, speaking now in a lower voice; the class craned their necks to keep him in view.

"The Dark Arts," said Snape, "are many, varied, ever-changing, and eternal. Fighting them is like fighting a many-headed monster, which, each time a neck is severed, sprouts a head even fiercer and cleverer than before. You are fighting that which is unfixed, mutating, indestructible."

Harry couldn't help but wonder at how _unsubtle_ the man was being in his apparent appreciation for the Dark Arts. It was one thing to respect the Dark Arts as a dangerous enemy, but what Snape was doing was much more in line with a loving appreciation for the subject. Was it any wonder that Dumbledore had been reluctant to let the man teach the class for so many years?

"Your defenses," said Snape, a little louder, "must therefore be as flexible and inventive as the arts you seek to undo. These pictures" — he indicated a few of them as he swept past — "give a fair representation of what happens to those who suffer, for instance, the Cruciatus Curse" — he waved a hand toward a witch who was clearly shrieking in agony — "feel the Dementor's Kiss" — a wizard lying huddled and blank-eyed, slumped against a wall — "or provoke the aggression of the Inferius" — a bloody mass upon the ground.

He set off again around the other side of the classroom toward his desk, and again, they watched him as he walked, his dark robes billowing behind him.

". . . you are, I believe, complete novices in the use of nonverbal spells. What is the advantage of a nonverbal spell?"

Hermione's hand shot into the air and Snape made it a point to avoid actually looking at her and acknowledging her in any way. Instead his eyes fell upon Tom.

"Mr. Moore, is it? Our new… _transfer_ student. I understand you've no formal training before this, and yet managed high marks in your O.W.L. exam. I cannot honestly say if a lack of formal training puts you at a disadvantage over your peers here or not, given the inconsistencies in education quality that have been suffered over the last five years here. Tell me, Mr. Moore - what is the value in casting one's spells nonverbally?"

"Your opponent doesn't know what you're casting because you're not running around shouting all of your moves before actually performing them. Knowing the spell being cast gives the opponent an opportunity, however fleeting, to perform a counter-curse, or prep a deflector or shield. There's also no opportunity for stealth if you have to speak all of your spells aloud. Your enemy is guaranteed to know you're coming, simply because they _heard_ you."

"Mm… Correct. Valid points all around. Those who progress to using magic without shouting incantations gain an element of surprise in their spell-casting. Not all wizards can do this, of course; it is a question of concentration and mind power which some" — his gaze lingered maliciously upon Harry once more — "lack."

Harry knew Snape was thinking of their disastrous Occlumency lessons of the previous year. Little did Snape know but Harry had been performing spells nonverbally for about a month now. Tom had insisted upon it for the drills, and while Harry had been convinced it was a doomed endeavor at first, he'd caught on surprisingly quickly. He chalked it up to having the magical bindings removed combined with Tom's instruction.

Controlling his magic felt instinctual now, where as before it had always been such a struggle. He _felt_ his magic in a way he never had before, and it had made it easy to keep performing the same magics, but not bothering to speak the words. There were several times in the beginning where Tom had been coaching him with the breathing and visualizing exercises and had Harry cast a spell, and he'd done it without saying a word, and hadn't even realized it.

"Tell me, Mr. Moore — do _you_ have any experience with casting nonverbal magic?" Snape said, pinning Tom with his sharp gaze again.

Tom's eyes narrowed slightly and Harry felt his stomach tighten with anxiety over where this whole thing was bound to go. He had no idea what Snape was thinking or planning, but Harry had come to determine that Tom's general displeasure with Snape made the man one of the few people that still got under Tom's skin.

"Yes, sir. I do," Tom replied succinctly.

"Then perhaps a demonstration is in order. Come to the front of the class."

The wary apprehension in Harry's chest magnified several fold and he watched as Tom stood from his desk gracefully, wand already in hand and made his way to the front of the classroom.

"I will cast a jinx and you will attempt to repel it — _in silence_. Are you prepared?" Snape said as the pair came to face each other from a number of feet apart at the head of the classroom.

"Yes, sir," Tom said in a clipped tone.

Without any further warning, Snape shot off a deep reddish spell in Tom'd direction. Snape's move was lightening fast, but Tom's reaction was even faster. He almost appeared to bat Snape's spell away like someone swatting at a bothersome fly, rather than something obvious like a shield charm.

Snape's eyes widened and Harry saw a moment of surprise grace the sallow man's features before a look of determination graced his face instead. He sent off another spell with a sharp jab of his wand and this one Tom did cast a shield to repel. Snape sent off two more spells before Tom slipped seamlessly from a deflection spell into sending a disarming hex back, actually _hitting_ his target.

Snape's wand flew from his hand, sailed across the space between them, and into Tom's now outstretched hand.

You could have heard a pin drop the classroom was so silent.

Tom took several steps forward, spun Snape's wand around in his nimble fingers, and offered it back handle-first.

"Your wand, sir?"

Snape's eyes were narrowed and filled with tightly bound fury.

And perhaps something more, Harry thought, as he saw the briefest sign of fear before Snape reached up and snatched the wand away.

Tom casually walked back to his seat and sat down, looking oblivious to the fact that nearly every eye in the classroom was presently trained on him with reactions varying from awe to shock to incredulity.

"You will now divide," Snape snapped suddenly, drawing the attention back onto himself, "into pairs. One partner will attempt to jinx the other without speaking. The other will attempt to repel the jinx in equal silence. Carry on." Snape then turned with a flourish of his long black robes over towards his desk where he promptly sat down and began to shuffle some papers.

"Bloody hell! That was brilliant!" Ron whispered in wonder at Tom a minute later as the four had stood from their desks and gathered towards the open area in the back. Harry glanced over and saw the faintest amused curl of Tom's lips. Harry sighed — it could have been a lot worse. And hopefully Snape would now know better than to pull another stunt like that — if only to avoid the public humiliation.

"Ron, do you mind if Harry and I partner up on this?" Tom asked, apparently opting not to directly address what had just transpired.

"Eh? Oh, yeah. Er, hey 'Mione?"

Hermione sighed but gave Ron a smile anyway. "Sure, Ron. Come on, lets go over here —" she guided him a few feet away from Harry and Tom and appeared to be going over something she'd probably read somewhere about how to cast nonverbally.

Tom turned his attention fully on Harry then. "So do you want to cast the jinx, or the shield?"

Snape was unaware, but the fact was that the year prior Harry had taught at least half of the current class how to perform a shield charm — though of course, none of them had performed it without speaking, during that time. The D.A. had been a necessity due to Umbridge's complete lack of any proper instruction in Defense and Harry wondered absently if Snape having now taken the job was just as much of a justification to continue it on again.

One thing was for sure though — if Harry _did_ continue the D.A. it certainly wouldn't be called 'Dumbledore's Army' anymore.

The class progressed from there a well as one would expect it to, given the fact that Snape had literally given them no actual instruction on how one performs spells nonverbally. A reasonable amount of cheating ensued where many people resorted to whispering the incantations instead of saying them aloud.

Predictably, Hermione was one of the first students — besides Harry and Tom — to pull off a nonverbal spell _legitimately_. She managed to shield against Ron's quietly whispered Jelly-Legs Jinx, without saying a single word. Clearly quite pleased with herself, she then attempted to explain to Ron what he was doing wrong, which didn't seem to please, nor help, him one bit.

Snape had at some point left the solitude of his desk and began walking his way around the open half of the classroom, berating and critiquing the efforts of everyone he came across. He finally reached the end where Tom and Harry stood opposing each other, sending one spell after another at each other. They actually had ended up going with an alternating pattern, swapping the role of caster and repeller, back and forth each time.

Tom had instructed Harry not to repeat a jinx, and he'd been focusing so hard on trying to come up with a new spell to cast each time, that he wasn't even paying attention when Snape began to observe them. Harry was grateful that Tom had started teaching him a wide variety of spells the last couple weeks,

The drills of casting the same spell over and over had become so mind-numbing and Harry had complained enough that Tom was finally convinced to alter his strategy. While he still insisted it was important to drill the new proper casting power into Harry's subconscious for the spells he was most familiar with, Tom had finally decided that learning a number of _new_ spells, and learning their proper power requirements from the beginning, would also be a good idea.

But Harry had only just learned most of them, and unlike Tom and Hermione, Harry did not have some ridiculous perfect recollection, so it was a struggle to remember each one, and to also make sure he didn't repeat any. The time provided him by Tom's attack and casting a shield charm, was all Harry had to come up with his next move, but Tom wasn't making _that_ any easier as Harry was slowly becoming aware that Tom was using progressively more powerful spells, requiring progressively more powerful shields.

Harry cast a spell whose incantation would have been _dabit poenas_ had Harry actually said it out loud, and a powder blue jagged light shot from his wand, moving in a cork-screw pattern across the space between them and Tom batted it away much like he had the first jinx that Snape had sent his way. Harry began to prepare for Tom's next spell, ready to cast a silent _protego_ when Snape suddenly bellowed his name, catching him completely off guard.

" _POTTER!"_

Harry jumped and Tom's spell sailed past him, just barely missing his shoulder.

"What?" Harry said in a tone that was one part confusion, one part annoyance.

"What was the spell you last cast?" Snape growled, stalking in close and glowering down at Harry threatening.

"Wha—? Uh, it was —"

"It was _damo lestiae_ sir," Tom interjected, stepping forward.

Harry blinked at Tom in confusion for a moment as he was sure Tom would have easily recognized what spell Harry had actually cast, and that wasn't it.

"I asked _Potter_ ," Snape said in a scathing whisper.

Tom gave Harry a rather pointed look. "Uh, he's right, sir. It was _damo lestiae_ ," Harry said hesitantly, not entirely sure why he was lying. Harry didn't even know a spell called _damo lestiae._

Snape's eyes were narrowed and deeply filled with suspicion. "And where exactly did you learn such an obscure spell as that?"

"I taught him, sir," Tom answered.

Snape pinned Tom with his suspicious glare now. "Hmm, yes. I'm sure you did," he sneered before turning with a flourish and stalking away.

"What was that all about?" Harry asked in a whisper as soon as he was confident Snape was far enough away.

"I'm afraid it slipped my mind to warn you not to use that particular spell in public settings, when I taught it to you," Tom whispered back.

"What? Why?"

" _D_ _abit poenas_ is… well, technically, it's a dark arts spell."

Harry turned his full gaze on Tom, looking at him with mild incredulity. "Are you serious?" Harry whispered out harshly.

"It's only _technically_ dark," Tom argued weakly.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Brilliant," he muttered sarcastically. "So what the heck is _damo lestiae_?"

"It's a jinx that gives a person irritable bowel syndrome."

Harry gaped incredulously. "Ew - _what?_ Why _that_ spell?"

"It's nearly the same color as _dabit poenas_ with the same sort of corkscrew light. It was the only thing I thought would be believable as an alternative to the spell you actually cast."

"Bloody hell… did you teach me any _other_ dark arts without telling me?" Harry harshly whispered, clearly annoyed.

"No. Not that I can think of anyway," Tom mused hesitantly.

Harry rolled his eyes and heaved a disgruntled sigh.

Class progressed from there with more whispered spells and purple puckered faces from those actually trying, yet still failing, to cast their spells silently. Class ended and the four left, moving out into the hall and getting clear of Snape and his imposing presence.

"When did you learn to cast nonverbally!?" Hermione asked Harry incredulously as soon as they were clear.

"Uh, over the summer," Harry said shrugging.

She made a great disgruntled noise and gave him a reprimanding glare. "Harry James Potter, you are _under-aged!"_

"You already knew I was casting magic this summer!" he said defensively.

"Yeah, and I thought it was just a few tiny spells here and there! Not running nonverbal dueling drills!"

"And him doing this is a bad thing, _how?_ " Ron asked.

She turned her glare on him for a moment before turning back to Harry. "If you'd gotten caught you could have been _expelled_!"

"First off - I wasn't going to get caught. This was at Tom's house and the Ministry could never detect a thing from inside his crazy wards."

She looked over at Tom then and he nodded. "Definitely no way they'd detect it. Plus, the Trace only activates if there are no adult wizards within the direct vicinity of the under-aged wizard. The Trace can't really tell whose casting the magic, only that magic has been cast and what it was — oh, and whether or not a muggle was around to witness it. If the Trace detects magic, but there's an adult wizard around, it has to assume it was the adult casting the magic, so it doesn't activate. It _does_ record the event but it doesn't send a warning."

"Wait - are you saying that so long as an adult was around, I could have been casting magic over the summers, all this time?" Ron asked.

Tom nodded and shrugged. "It's how some families openly disregard the Ministry's age restriction. I rather doubt that Draco Malfoy was refused magic use over his summers, he just had to make sure one of his parents, or a tutor was around before casting anything. Well that and I'm sure the Malfoy's wards are on par with the Blacks and block the Trace anyway. In any case, Harry was with me, so even without all of the protective wards over my house, casting spells wouldn't have triggered a warning."

Ron tilted his head then, looking at Tom speculatively for a moment. "Blimey it's easy to forget you're seventeen. You sure don't look it."

Tom flushed then, looking decidedly uncomfortable for a moment.

"Harry! Hey, Harry!" a voice called from down the corridor, drawing their attention.

Harry looked around; Jack Sloper, one of the Beaters on last year's Gryffindor Quidditch team, was hurrying toward him holding a roll of parchment.

"For you," panted Sloper. "Listen, I heard you're the new Captain. When're you holding trials?"

"I'm not sure yet," said Harry, thinking privately that Sloper would be very lucky to get back on the team. "I'll let you know."

"Oh, right. I was hoping it'd be this weekend —"

But Harry was not listening; he had just recognized the thin, slanting writing on the parchment and his stomach instantly fell to the ground in his gut. Leaving Sloper in mid-sentence, he hurried away with Tom, Hermione, and Ron following behind. He found an alcove and unrolled the parchment.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I would like to start our private lessons this Saturday. Kindly come along to my office at 8 p.m. I hope you are enjoying your first day back at school._

 _Yours sincerely,_

 _Albus Dumbledore_

 _P.S. I enjoy Acid Pops._

"He enjoys Acid Pops?" said Ron, who had read the message over Harry's shoulder and was looking perplexed.

"It's the password to get past the gargoyle outside his study," Harry said tiredly, groaning internally. Part of him had forgotten that Dumbledore had said he wanted to start teaching Harry private lessons back when he'd enlisted his services in recruiting Slughorn. The thought of being alone in a room with Dumbledore for —

Dread and horror filled Harry and he turned his gaze on Tom. "We have to work on my occlumency, _hardcore_."

"Agreed," Tom said with a firm nod and obvious concern in his eyes.

"We've got a break now and then you lot have a free period," Hermione offered helpfully.

They made their way to the Gryffindor Common Room which was once again nearly empty except for a handful of seventh years, and found a secluded corner. Harry and Tom spent the next hour going through mental exercises and with Harry listening as Tom gave him further instruction. Ron and Hermione spent the break speculating on what Dumbledore's 'lesson' would entail, and debating whether or not this was going to end up being part of another one of the man's elaborate setups that would lead to Harry ending up in some life-or-death situation later on in the school year. Hermione left to go to her Arithmancy class and Ron reluctantly started working on Snape's homework. He had only just finished when the bell rang for the end of their break period. Next they had double Potions so the group trudged down into the dungeon classroom that had, for so long, been Snape's.

When they got there, the corridor was occupied by the dozen students out of their year that had actually gotten high enough scores on their O.W.L exam to progress to Advanced Potions. Crabbe and Goyle had evidently failed to get high enough scores, but four Slytherins had made it through including Malfoy. Four Ravenclaws were there and one Hufflepuff, Ernie Macmillan, whom Harry was fairly fond of, despite his rather pompus manner.

"Harry," Ernie said portentously, holding out his hand as Harry approached, "didn't get a chance to speak in Defense Against the Dark Arts this morning. Good lesson I thought, but Shield Charms are old hat, of course, for us old D.A. lags. But I've got to say I was really impressed. I had no idea you could cast nonverbally! Wish you'd maybe covered that last year. Would have been nice to have a head start on that for Snape's lesson."

Before anything further could be said, the dungeon door opened and Slughorn appeared, gesturing the group inside.

The dungeon was most unusually, already full of vapors and odd smells. Harry, Tom, Ron, and Hermione sniffed interestedly as they passed large, bubbling cauldrons. The four Slytherins took a table together, as did the four Ravenclaws. This left Harry, Ron, Tom, and Hermione to share a table with Ernie. They chose the one nearest a gold-colored cauldron that was emitting one of the most seductive scents Harry had ever inhaled. It left him confused by it's extreme familiarity for all of a moment before he turned and looked at Tom in confusion.

"You know, I'd swear that potion smells just like… _you._ "

Tom smiled quite widely at that before blushing a bit and ducking his head. "To me, it smells like you."

Harry was only made _more_ confused by that, but before he could say anything further Slughorn began to talk.

"Now then, now then, now then," said Slughorn, whose massive outline was quivering through the many shimmering vapors. "Scales out, everyone, and potion kits, and don't forget your copies of Advanced Potion-Making. I've prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of thing you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of 'em, even if you haven't made 'em yet. Anyone tell me what this one is?"

He indicated the cauldron closest to the Slytherins. Harry stood slightly, craning his neck to get a better look. The potion inside it was perfectly clear and looked like nothing more than plain boiling water.

Hermione's hand hit the air before anyone else's and Slughorn pointed at her.

"It's Veritaserum, a colorless, odorless potion that forces the drinker to tell the truth," said Hermione.

"Very good, very good!" said Slughorn happily. "Now," he continued, pointing at the cauldron nearest the Ravenclaw table, "this one here is pretty well known. . . . Featured in a few Ministry leaflets lately too . . . Who can — ?"

Hermione's hand was fastest once more.

"It's Polyjuice Potion, sir," she said.

Harry too had recognized the slow-bubbling, mudlike substance in the second cauldron, but did not resent Hermione getting the credit for answering the question; she, after all, was the one who had succeeded in making it, back in their second year.

"Excellent, excellent! Now, this one here . . . yes, my dear?" said Slughorn, now looking slightly bemused, as Hermione's hand punched the air again.

"It's Amortentia!"

"It is indeed. It seems almost foolish to ask," said Slughorn, who was looking mightily impressed, "but I assume you know what it does?"

"It's the most powerful love potion in the world!" said Hermione.

"Quite right! You recognized it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?"

"And the steam rising in characteristic spirals," said Hermione enthusiastically, "and it's supposed to smell differently to each of us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and —"

But she turned slightly pink and did not complete the sentence.

Harry's eyes widened with dawning understanding and he looked over at Tom again, who was now smirking playfully in Harry's direction.

Slughorn asked Hermione her name, which led to a brief exchange about who she might be related to, which led to her pointing out she was muggleborn. Harry _had_ mentioned that he had a muggleborn friend who was the best in his year, back over the summer, during their brief meeting.

"Oho! 'One of my best friends is Muggle-born, and she's the best in our year!' I'm assuming this is the very friend of whom you spoke, Harry?"

"Yes, sir," said Harry.

"Well, well, take twenty well-earned points for Gryffindor, Miss Granger," said Slughorn genially.

"Hermione turned to Harry with a radiant expression and whispered, "Did you really tell him I'm the best in the year? Oh, Harry!" Ron rolled his eyes, looking a bit put upon for some reason and Harry frowned at him in confusion.

"Amortentia doesn't really create love, of course," Slughorn continued on. "It is impossible to manufacture or imitate love." He went on to speak for a moment before telling the class it was time to start work. Ernie then pointed out that Slughorn still hadn't told them about the potion in the cauldron closest to where Harry and his group was sitting.

It became clear that Slughorn hadn't _really_ forgotten, but was waiting for this very question for dramatic effect.

"Yes. That. Well, that one, ladies and gentlemen, is a most curious little potion called Felix Felicis. I take it," he turned, smiling, to look at Hermione, who had let out an audible gasp, "that you know what Felix Felicis does, Miss Granger?"

"It's liquid luck," said Hermione excitedly. "It makes you lucky!"

He awarded Hermione another ten points before going on to detail some of the effects of Felix Felicis as well as why it wasn't wise to drink it too often, and all of the circumstances where its use was banned, such as sporting events and the like.

He ended his talk by announcing that a tiny bottle of the substance was going to be the prize for whoever in the class most succeeded in brewing the day's lesson.

They were all directed to turn to page ten in their textbook and told they had just over an hour to work. The potion in question was the Draught of Living Death, and he said it was far more complicated than anything they had probably attempted before. He didn't expect anyone to have a perfect brew, but whoever came the closest would get the prize.

The class quickly and fervently set to work with nearly everyone instantly sinking in to deeply concentrative silence.

Harry heaved a sigh, turning his focus on his book, wondering absently if Tom would share the Felix with him after he undoubtedly won it.

"You can do this, Harry," Tom said, leaning closer and looking him in the eye.

"Huh?"

"I'm confident that you could brew up a perfect batch of this. We've covered all the tricky bits over the summer. Just don't be afraid to deviate from the textbook. From what I've gathered, Libatius Borage is an absent-minded moron because he has left out some important bits in nearly every potion I've skimmed through in the book. But this also means that anyone here who follows the books instructions to a T is going to do worse than you will, given what I've shown you. Seriously, Harry. Give it a shot."

"It's not like I'd do a better job than you, anyway," Harry argued quietly.

"Look — I'll make an honest effort up until the end and if it looks like you're brew hasn't turned out quite right, I'll finish it and get us the potion, but if I think you've got a shot with your potion I'll blow the last step. I don't care about the Felix. I could brew it myself if I did. But if I do get it, it's yours. I just think you could get it for yourself if you really tried."

"Why don't you want it?" Harry asked, curiously.

Tom twisted up his mouth and frowned slightly. "I'm not fond of how it effects your thought process when using it. It feels a bit… _out of control_ , and I don't like feeling like that."

"So you _have_ used it?"

"Oh, of course. A few times."

Hermione gave Harry a pointed look and shushed him, so Harry turned back to his work and started getting his cauldron and scales setup. He read over the whole thing first, as Tom had been drilling that bit into his head all summer.

 _Never go into brewing a potion without knowing every step first._

He gathered all of the various ingredients and set to prepping them so that they could be put in at the proper times and proper order without anything catching him by surprise.

It didn't take long at all before Harry encountered a couple of those places that Tom was probably talking about earlier. The books author, Libatius Borage, really did have a problem with leaving out important details, as Harry quite clearly remembered Tom showing him how to properly prepare a few of these ingredients in ways the book didn't mention at all.

Harry chopped up the valerian roots with his regular cutting knife, but made sure to pull out the silver athame for the sopophorous beans, crushing them with the flat side, rather than cutting as the book had instructed.

Harry went through the process of adding the ingredients, pausing certain timing intervals between certain items that needed more or less time than others to integrate with the potion properly. After adding the crushed sopophorus bean juice his potion turned the exact shade of lilac that the book described.

Hermione's was still a deep shade of purple and she looked over at Harry with a frazzled expression before frowning and focusing back on her own potion again.

"Add one clockwise stir after every seventh stir," Tom's whispered voice came, drawing Harry's attention.

Harry looked back down at the book and it did instruct to stir the potion anti-clockwise while mentioning nothing about adding in any clockwise stirring. Harry assumed it was another one of those important details Tom said the author tended to leave out.

Harry did as instructed and as soon as he'd finished seven stirs and added in the one clockwise stir, the potion turned the palest pink.

"How are you doing that?" demanded Hermione, who was red-faced and whose hair was growing bushier and bushier in the fumes from her cauldron; her potion was still resolutely purple.

"Add a clockwise stir —"

"No, no, the book says anti-clockwise!" she snapped.

"And Tom said add a clockwise stir. Do you think that he just might know what he's talking about?" Harry whispered back.

She hesitated then, frowning and looking to be at war with herself, unsure whether to follow the book's instructions, or the instructions of someone who had supposedly been brewing potions for apothecaries professionally for more than a year.

Across the table, Ron was cursing fluently under his breath; his potion looked like liquid licorice. Harry glanced around. As far as he could see, no one else's potion had turned as pale as his. He looked over at Tom who was smiling at him with a rather proud sort of look to his eyes. Harry flushed slightly, ducking his head and grinning to himself.

Harry noticed that Tom's potion was also pink, but not nearly as pale, and after a moment of observation he saw that Tom was _not_ including the extra clockwise stir that Harry had continued to incorporate in his.

"And time's . . . up!" called Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"

Slughorn spent the next few minutes making his way around the classroom examining each person's potions, occasionally making little noises, or giving a potion a stir or a sniff. He reached the table Harry and his friends were at last and smiled ruefully at Ron's tarlike substance before passing over Ernie's navy concoction. Hermione's potion he gave an approving nod before coming to Harry and Tom.

"Good gracious! Quite a close race in this one. Both of you have nearly _perfect_ brews! But…" he paused and gave Harry's a quick stir before doing the same to Tom's. "But Mr. Potter's is just a tad better! We clearly have our winner!" He handed over the tiny bottle of golden potion, telling Harry to use it well and called the class to vanish their potions and cleanup their workstations.

"How'd you do that?" Hermione asked as they left the dungeon.

"Tom says that Libatius Borage has a problem with leaving out important details," Harry said with a shrug towards Tom who was walking beside him on the other side. "He'd shown me how to properly prepare several of those ingredients over the summer and told me not to be afraid to deviate from what the book said if I was sure something else was needed."

Hermione looked quite put-upon by this information, clearly not liking any insinuation that their textbook was somehow inferior.

"I've been debating going through the book and making notes on everything I can think of that the author has clearly missed, "Tom said as the group left the dungeons and turned towards the Great Hall. "I could probably spell the additions into any of your textbooks as well. It's a simple matter to spell a of copy any alterations I make on my book into yours.

"I'll take you up on that," Ron said eagerly. "Not that I think it'll make that big of a difference. I'm pants at potions. Harry used to be too, actually."

Harry shrugged. "Like I said before, I learned more from Tom over the summer than I did from five years under Snape. He not only knows what he's talking about, he's actually good at instructing others, instead of just barking out orders to do something without ever explaining _how."_

Hermione still looked quite skeptical as they sat down at the Gryffindor table, but Tom took the seat between Harry and Hermione and pulled out his potions book to point out the different places where he and Harry had deviated from the book's instructions, and explain _why_ they'd done it.

She seemed a bit more open to the idea of allowing Tom's alterations be written out in her book when he was done, though still didn't understand why these instructions wouldn't have been in the official textbook if they were the proper way to brew the potions.

Tom pointed out that textbooks were still written by humans, and humans were never perfect. Libatius Borage's book may have been considered the best option for teaching teenagers more advanced potions, but that certainly didn't make it the be-all and end-all book on the subject. Tom may have also used the phrase _'those who can't do, teach'_ , making a remark on people who were considerably more skilled in the subject of potions, were usually too busy to go around writing textbooks. Hermione didn't actually seem to like this remark however, if her flat slightly irritated expression was anything to go by.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

The rest of the week progressed in a predictable manner. Harry and Tom worked on Occlumency as often as was possible, but there was actual homework to attend to as well that occasionally had to take priority. There were two more Potions classes that week, and in both instances, Harry found small bits in the instructions where he actually knew a different technique to use than the one described and found with some surprise, that he was doing quite well, even when Tom didn't give him any direct guidance.

Tom didn't get his modifications and notes written up until the end of the week, so Harry didn't even have that to explain his improved performance.

Defense lessons had continued a focus on nonverbal spell casting, and Snape had pointedly ignored both Harry and Tom ever since that first lesson. Which was perfectly fine by Harry. Most of rest of the class was still struggling with casting _anything_ silently, so when practical practice happened in class, Tom just took advantage of it to run Harry through more of the same sort of drills they'd been doing all summer, in as subtle a manner as was possible, and still remain within the requirements of whatever lesson Snape was giving.

Since it was 6th year now, and not everyone had scored high enough to qualify for NEWT level classes in every subject, not everyone was taking all of the main classes anymore. Since a fewer total of people had signed up for each class, continuing on with two full sections - each section a group of two of the houses combined - and ending up with two small groups, all four houses were combined into one section. It meant that in several of the sections the classes _were_ larger in total than they had been before, but not by much. Plus the professor only had to deal with one section of sixth years.

This meant that this year Malfoy was in nearly all of the same classes as Harry and Tom. The one exception being Herbology, which Harry assumed he just wasn't taking this year. Ron had whined about this on numerous occasions, but Harry had to admit that _so far_ Malfoy hadn't done _anything_ to any of them. He hadn't even badmouthed Ron, and he'd had a couple opportunities to do it.

Harry had also noticed a couple instances where it looked like Malfoy was trying to work up to speaking to Harry, but so far he hadn't actually acted on the impulse. Malfoy _had_ been giving Tom quite a few curious looks, and was clearly surprised by Harry and Tom's class performance so far.

By Saturday Harry was exhausted and his head felt overly full. Hermione had been right about the workload, and the amount of homework was mildly staggering. But mostly he was terrified of his meeting with Dumbledore that night, and did not feel even the slightest bit prepared for it.

He and Tom had done as well as could be expected, though Harry did regret not putting nearly as much focus into his occlumency lessons over the summer. Tom had at least gotten Harry started on constructing false memories to use as decoys, but Harry was not confident that they would pass any honest inspection.

Tom actually didn't seem nearly as worried as Harry was, insisting that it was Dumbledore's modus operandi to only do the lightest of surface scans, just to check for any obvious signs of dishonesty. He didn't delve deeper without considerable incentive, and Tom said that Harry's efforts so far were definitely good enough to pass a light legilmency sweep.

Harry just hoped that Tom was right. Just the same, Harry actually had his trunk mostly packed in case he had to run for it on short notice. Ron had noticed this and had attempted to raise Harry's spirits by distracting him with Quidditch, and then making Harry promise that he'd go flying with Ron on Sunday; making it clear that he expected Harry to _still be there on Sunday_.

That evening at a quarter to eight Harry put the Transfiguration essay he'd been attempting and failing to start work on aside and bid Tom and his friends goodbye. Hermione called out a worried good luck while Tom whispered that he'd be paying attention to that little niggling feeling in the back of his mind for any signs of panic and if he sensed anything, he'd probably force his way into Dumbledore's office.

Harry was both concerned by that prospect and comforted by it. With that, Harry left the common room with a sense of heavy trepidation.

It was about an hour and a half later when he returned. It was past curfew and the number of people in the common room had dropped quite a bit, though Ron, Hermione, and Tom were still there waiting for him. Tom stood as soon as he saw Harry coming in through the portrait hole, looking at Harry questioningly. Harry gave him a tired, yet reassuring look and made his way over to the secluded corner the other three were gathered in.

"So how'd it go?" Ron asked eagerly.

Harry heaved a sigh and frowned slightly as he attempted to come up with the best way to explain what had transpired.

"Well, it went fine, I guess. He never once even _tried_ to read my mind, so all that worry and work on the Occlumency wasn't even necessary."

"I would hardly call it unnecessary," Tom interjected. "It's something we honestly needed to put more effort into anyway, and this was a reasonable kick in the bum to get us to really put some effort forth."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I know. Anyway, other than that, the meeting certainly wasn't what I was expecting."

"What did he teach you?" Ron asked, sitting forward with more interest now.

"I wouldn't say he _taught_ me anything. We just used his pensieve to view a memory."

"The whole time? You've been gone more than an hour!" Ron exclaimed.

"It was a long memory," Harry said tiredly.

"What was it?" Hermione asked.

Harry glanced over towards Tom for a moment, giving him something of a meaningful look before turning back to the group as a whole. "Well, it was the memory of a ministry worker named Bob Ogden from sometime back in… the mid 20's I suppose? It was probably a year and a half before Voldemort was born. It was a memory of this Ogden guy visiting Voldemort's grandfather, uncle, and mother, because the uncle had attacked a muggle - who turned out to be Voldemort's father."

Ron and Hermione's eyes had both gone quite wide. Tom's face seemed to freeze into a motionless mask.

"But… buy _why?_ " Hermione asked finally.

Harry heaved a sigh and shrugged. "I couldn't begin to tell you. But he claims that it's relevant to the 'Prophecy'," Harry paused, making air-quotes with his fingers. "I suppose I'll just have to hang on longer to try and work out what game he's trying to play."

Hermione shook her head looking somewhat woeful. Harry knew it still hurt quite a lot for her to think that Dumbledore wasn't the man she'd always thought him to be. Harry was certainly familiar with that feeling.

She packed up her school things shortly after that, and Ron called it a night as well. He looked to Harry and Tom expectantly, but Harry told him he was going to try and make up for some of the time he'd wasted not doing his homework, and Tom offered to stay and keep him company.

"I get the impression that there's more to the memory and the meeting than what you said earlier?" Tom said quietly as soon as Ron and Hermione had both gone and a subtle privacy ward had been erected.

"And you'd be right," Harry said with a nod of his head as he sat forward, leaning in close to Tom. "He was showing me horcruxes - not that he _said that_ , but both the ring and the necklace were featured fairly prominently in that memory."

Tom's eyes widened. "Really?" he asked, his tone both surprised and interested. "Can… can you tell me about it? This memory, I mean?"

"Yeah, sure. So this guy, Bob Ogden, was a Ministry worker. He went to this old hovel at the edge of a town called Little Ha—"

"Little Hangleton," Tom said lowly and nodded. "Yes, I know the house quite well."

"Right. So he went there because the Ministry had detected that Morphin — your uncle?"

Tom nodded.

"They detected that Morphin had hexed a muggle. It turned out that the muggle was your father. You mother, Merope, had apparently been looking at him and watching him as he rode down the street on his horse or whatever, and Morphin worked out that she fancied him and wanted to 'teach her a lesson.' So he hexed your dad."

Tom nodded his head slowly, his brow creased and a focused look of concentration on his face.

"So anyway, Bob Ogden shows up and Morphin starts yelling at him in Parseltongue, and Ogden has no idea what he's saying. Morphin hexes Ogden, but then Marvolo, your grandfather, showed up and yelled at Morphin. They all ended up inside the house and thats when I saw Merope for the first time. She was wearing the locket around her neck — I noticed that right away. She was also a mess. Like, emotionally beaten down. I felt awful for her. So anyway, Marvolo does most of the talking with Ogden, pausing only to curse out Merope and accuse her of being a worthless squib. I think it's more likely that she was just terrified of him, because the man was totally out of his mind, and really kind of violent.

"After that Marvolo gets upset with Ogden, and starts talking about how he was descended from Slytherin — he grabbed Merope by the neck, just to drag her close and show the locket that was around her neck, yelling at Ogden that it was Slytherin's and that they descended from him. He was also wearing the ring and shoved it in Ogden's face once, saying it was the 'Peverel crest'. Basically he was trying to prove something by pointing our their _pure lines_ , but Ogden obviously didn't give a crap.

"At one point, they hear talking out the window and on the road that passed by the house, and it turned out to be your dad and some girl riding down the road on horseback. That's when Morphin and Marvolo start talking in Parseltongue about why Morphin hexed the muggle in the first place. Once Marvolo heard it was because Morphin thought Merope fancied a muggle, Marvolo flew into a rage and attacked Merope. Ogden actually protected her at first, but then Marvolo attacked Ogden and the man had to run for it. Dumbledore said that a short time later, Ogden came back with reinforcements from the Ministry and arrested Morphin and Marvolo, leaving Merope free to finally plan and make her escape. He said…" Harry hesitated here, making something of a wary face, "uhm… Dumbledore said he figured that Merope slipped the muggle Tom Riddle a love potion and got him to run away with her to London."

Tom nodded his head slowly, still looking deep in thought and concentration. "I had basically already worked that part out. The love potion part, I mean. I did meet my uncle once… very briefly. He was barely coherent at the time as this was long after he'd had a stay in Azkaban, but I was able to piece together something along those lines. However I mostly worked out the _love potion_ likelihood based on the story I extracted from my father before I killed him."

"Ah… yeah," Harry said, making something of a face.

"Still… the fact that Dumbledore had managed to track down a memory from that time… and one that included both the locket and the ring… it's almost impressive if it weren't so unsettling."

"Yeah…"

"I can only imagine that he had to have been collecting memories for years and from a tremendous variety of sources, to finally come across some that seemed worth something. I doubt he has much more than a passing suspicion, and no proof, that the ring and locket are Horcruxes, but based on my grandfather's reverence of them both, he probably assumed they were good candidates, which is mostly likely the real reason he showed you that memory. Not to teach you about my shoddy ancestry."

"So you think he's probably got more memories waiting about different items he think you might have made into horcruxes? But why would he be showing _me_ that?" Harry asked, bewildered.

"I'm not really sure to be honest. Though I've long suspected that he thinks he can use you to find the horcruxes because of your connection to them. I wonder if he would actually try to get you to help him find them without revealing to you _why_ you specifically were best for that task."

"You mean, him get me to look for them without letting me realize that _I am one_ — yeah?"

"Precisely," Tom said with a nod.

Harry nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. "Yeah, I can see him managing to spin that. I was always terrible about actually questioning him when he gave me shite and vague answers. I mean, once I asked him about my being a parselmouth and he told me he believed that you had left a piece of _your magic_ behind inside me. It freaked me out at the time, but I didn't question him further on it. I didn't ask him _why_ he thought that, or what that even _meant_. Once it was clear he didn't intend to offer up any more information, I just accepted that and moved on. Blast it, I was such a bleeding idiot!"

"You're not an idiot, Harry. You were just too trusting. Trusting of the wrong person," Tom said with a sigh before frowning. "He told you he thought I'd left behind a _piece of my magic?_ Bloody hell, that's just… I mean, he practically told you right there - just _without telling you_."

"Yeah, I know," Harry nodded with a disgruntled sneer on his face. "Last year was the worst though. He refused to even look me in the eye, the whole school year. Of course, the one time he did, I was overcome with this insane anger and loathing for him. I think it was from you actually. Seriously freaked me out."

Tom looked at Harry with wide eyes and raised brows. "That's… interesting. He clearly has much deeper suspicions on all of what's going on here than he ever shared with others — you especially. For him to somehow _anticipate_ that making eye contact with him would initiate some sort of connection over our soul link… he's obviously been doing a tremendous amount of research and study into this phenomenon. He probably understands it better than even I do… which is entirely infuriating." Tom scowled, which actually caused Harry to grin a little as he couldn't help but think the expression looked somewhat cute.

Finally Tom heaved a sigh and shook his head. "Well, I suppose we can save such thoughts for another day. Did you actually want to try and get a bit of work done, or do you want to skive off and just go to bed?"

Harry yawned and stretched a bit and shrugged. "Honestly? Bed is considerably more appealing than writing an essay."

"But… the essay is due Monday morning and if you don't do it now, you'll have to do either tomorrow, when you promised Ron you'd go flying with him, or Monday morning during breakfast," Tom finished for him.

Harry grimaced and then gave a defeated sigh. "Essay it is."

— — —

Harry, Ron, and Tom climbed down the stairs from the boys dormitories and into the common room Sunday just after lunch to find Hermione waiting there for them. Ron and Harry both had their brooms and quidditch gear while Tom just looked mildly bored.

"Hey Hermione! Wanna come down to the pitch and watch us practice?" Ron asked excitedly.

"Er…" she hesitated grimacing slightly. "Actually, I was thinking that I might steal Tom for the afternoon, since you two will be off flying and I've gotten the impression he's not entirely enthusiastic about that. Or — just not as enthusiastic as you two are," she corrected quickly.

Tom's eyebrows raised curiously.

"What do you need Tom for?" Harry asked somewhat warily.

"Well," she turned her focus on Tom, "I was hoping you might come to the library with me and help me search for any books pertaining to the history of the house elves and their affliction?"

Understanding lit up Tom's face. "Oh, yes! Right. You know…" he hesitated giving Harry a slightly sheepish look, "I did promise her, you know… I still intend to come watch the Gryffindor tryouts next Saturday, but you know…"

Harry chuckled. "It's fine, Tom. I know you were only coming along to humor me. It's fine. Go to the library with 'Mione. We both know you'd feel more comfortable there than the Pitch."

Tom gave Harry a grateful smile and turned his focus back to Hermione.

"Looks like I'm yours for the afternoon."

"Brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, reaching down and picking up her satchel and slinging it over her shoulder. "I've been looking forward to this since summer! I was hoping to get to the library and look this up sooner, but with all the homework the professors have been piling on, I just haven't had the chance!"

Tom chuckled fondly and began to follow the witch out. He looked over his shoulder as Ron and Harry, catching Ron rolling his eyes dramatically and getting a small wave and a grin out of Harry.

Tom knew that Harry had been surprised with his offer to Hermione to help with her S.P.E.W. efforts, and Tom had quickly come to understand that both Ron and Harry had been worn beyond thin on her endeavor for elfish welfare a long time ago. Tom was coming to understand that Hermione just needed a little _aiming_ to calm her down. It wasn't a matter of telling her if she was right or wrong, it was a matter of nudging her _gradually_ with logic. Tom still seriously doubted that elves could be freed on mass any time in the near future, but he was interested by her suggestion that it was possible that another solution existed to save the house elves, beyond bonded slavery, and it simply hadn't been discovered for lack of anyone bothering to try.

It posed itself as a potentially interesting puzzle, and he was beginning to feel like he needed something else to occupy his time, beyond school work and hanging out on the periphery of the various student activities. Harry often tried to pull him into things, and he'd been more successful than not, but Tom still wasn't entirely engaged by the sort of things students did in the common room to keep themselves occupied.

Tom and Hermione arrived in the school's library a short trip later and Hermione headed directly to the section on magical creatures and began her search. Tom followed along, skimming the spines of the books in a more relaxed casual sort of manner before pausing thoughtfully and pulling out his wand.

Hermione was in the process of pulling out a third book and skimming through it intently when she glanced over and watched him as he made a complicated series of wand movements before finishing up with a sharp jab towards the books. A thin wispy string of golden light seemed to ooze out of the tip of his wand and snaked its way through the air, flying back and forth each row, pausing and a book every now and then and making little loops before continuing on it's way. At one book where it took several moments longer than the others, it left some wispy light behind and the book began to glow. The light continued to move on, traveling up the next two shelves and causing four more books to glow before the golden light faded out completely.

Hermione was gaping openly and was shaken out of her stupor only when Tom moved over and began to pull each of the glowing books from the shelves.

She made a semi-startled noise and quickly reached up and grabbed the two books nearest her.

"Was that Ypolit Hippolytus's _Quaere_ spell?" she asked with a hushed excitement in her tone.

Tom looked at her, mildly impressed and surprised. "Yes, it was," he confirmed, grabbing the last of the glowing books.

"I've never seen anyone who could cast it successfully before!" she exclaimed with an enthusiastic whisper. "I've tried so many times, but I can never get it to work!"

Tom hummed thoughtfully, nodding his head. "It does take quite a substantial amount of energy and concentration to power the spell. Ypolit Hippolytus was said to be an exceptionally powerful wizard for his day, and he tended to invent spells that took full advantage of what he could do."

Tom made his way to a nearby table with Hermione following quickly after him. "You know, Hermione… I could probably work with you on some exercises for focusing and pulling out more of your potential power. I wouldn't be surprised at all if you could pull off a _Quaere_ if you had some better technique. Hogwarts has always been terrible about actually teaching the students to understand their magical core and how to connect with it…. or so I've been told," he back-peddled quickly.

She looked thoughtful and nodded her head slowly. "I'd like to give it a shot. Being able to successfully cast _Quaere_ would make searching for information in here a thousand times easier and faster," she gushed dramatically.

"Yes, it's considerably fast to have a spell search for keywords for you than doing it _manually_ ," Tom chuckled and rolled his eyes. "It doesn't seem like it should be as difficult as it is. Honestly, I'd consider looking into inventing a more energy-efficient version that would do the same sort of thing, if it weren't for the fact that I don't really have any trouble with _Quaere_ as it is so there just wasn't much incentive."

"You've studied spell invention?" Hermione asked with interest.

"Tom made an affirmative hum and nodded his head somewhat distractedly as he flipped open the first book on his stack and began flipping through it and skimming the table of contents.

"I've always wanted to study spell creation," Hermione said somewhat dreamily.

"They used to have a class in it," Tom said with a slightly derisive snort. "They used to have a _lot_ of other classes," he muttered quietly.

"At Hogwarts, you mean?"

"Mmhmm," Tom nodded, pausing to flip a few pages further and skimming the text there.

"I've heard that each Headmaster tends to re-work the curriculum a bit," Hermione said thoughtfully before grabbing the first book in front of her.

"A bit," Tom snorted sarcastically. "The classes offered were stunningly different when the last headmaster ran the school."

"Armando Dippet? How do you know?"

Tom nodded. "My… father. You need to understand that when I was conceived he was already in his 40's, so when he attended Hogwarts in his youth, it was before Dumbledore took over as Headmaster. Anyway, he told me about his time at Hogwarts and the sorts of classes he took while here. There were a lot more teachers too — which is probably the biggest reason that a lot of courses were cut. I can't fathom how the current teachers are capable of handling as many classes and students as they presently do. I swear, they'd each need a Time-Turner just to manage it. The schedules couldn't possibly be arranged in any reasonable fashion."

"Mmmm," Hermione made a humming sound of agreement while thoughtfully nodding her head. "You know, I'm somewhat surprised you know what a Time-Turner even is. But you do have a point. I almost wonder if some of the professors _have_ been allowed one. It does seem a bit implausible that they could accomplish all that they have to do in a given week. For the standard five classes, at the very least.

"Take Charms for example," Hermione continued, "—four classes a week for the first years through fifth years, and at least two classes a week for the sixth and seventh years. That's a minimum of 24 classes a week for Professor Flitwick to handle all on his own. _Most_ classes are an hour long, but some classes like Potions have a two hour long lab once a week for some years like fifth, sixth, and seventh years. It adds up to a lot though not so many that it would be totally impossible. It is possible but it would be a very strenuous work load. I can't even imagine being responsible for working out the scheduling for all of that to make sure nothing interferes with anything else."

"Dumbledore really asks a lot of his staff. Too much, honestly," Tom muttered. "When Professor Dippet was the headmaster, most of the main professors had an assistant teacher that took over about half their classes. For example, there would be two Potions lessons per week for a sixth year student, one lecture and one practical. Slughorn would give the lecture himself while often times his assistant took over the practical lesson to give Slughorn more time to attend to other duties."

"Really? Huh… I wonder why that was stopped."

"As I understand it, Dumbledore was one of the few Professors who always refused to take on an assistant, insisting on teaching all of his classes himself. I suppose when he took over as headmaster, he simply expected everyone else to do the same," Tom rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the book in front of him.

Hermione frowned deeply for several moments before huffing out a frustrated breath and shaking her head. She too turned her focus back on the books and the matter was dropped in favor of actually focusing on their task.

Over the next hour they came to discover five books they'd found that mentioned the disease that had spread through the small elven species over a thousand years ago that had resulted in the current status quo, and that all five of these books said nearly the exact same thing, word-for-word. They'd all been quoting a single source, and that source did not appear to be in their pile of books.

But some of the books they had did include different information so they set to putting together notes of everything they could find.

By mid-afternoon a little alarm spell went off, causing Hermione to jump and gasp before casting a tempus and exclaiming that she had to go.

"I promised to meet up with a couple people from my Ancient Runes class. We've been assigned to a group project and we were going to get started on it this afternoon!" she explained as she quickly began to gather up her notes and a couple books she was still in the process of going through.

"Ah — that's fine," Tom said simply. "I may stick around a bit longer, but I think I'm nearing a stopping point. Although I do think it's going to come down to getting a couple house elves to allow us to do some tests. I know Harry is friends with one that was set free and he'll be useful, but we'll also need a couple that are still bonded to a wizard — rather than to the castle. I'd say we use Kreacher, but he's bonded to Sirius and well…."

"Harry and Sirius aren't speaking right now," Hermione concluded with a solemn sigh and a nod of her head. "Harry's friend is a house elf named Dobby, but we could probably also convince Winky to help — she belonged to Mr. Crouch and was set free last fall. She's also working in the kitchens, but I don't think she's _bonded_ to the school — she's free, like Dobby is."

Tom nodded. "Good. So we'll have two 'free' elves for sure. We can hopefully convince two of the school's bonded elves to help, and for the two elves who are bonded to wizards… well, there's Kreacher, so we'll still have to identify at least one more. But hopefully that'll be a reasonable enough sampling range for the tests I want to run."

Hermione got an excited gleam in her eye as she finished with her packing and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Ooo, I'm getting excited! This is the most progress I feel like I've made in ages. I've been trying so long to convince the school's elves the benefits of demanding their freedom and have gotten absolutely _nowhere_ with that. But this might be a much better avenue. Thank you _so much_ for agreeing to help me with this!"

Tom smiled softly. "It's my pleasure, Hermione. Anyway, I'll catch up with you in the common room later. You'd best be going if you're going to meet up with your runes group."

Hermione agreed and quickly departed the library, leaving Tom alone in the peace and quiet of the mostly deserted room, surrounded by books and parchment.

About fifteen minutes passed before Tom became aware of a presence approaching him. He pretended not to notice and kept on working while part of his mind kept track of just where the person was at all times. Finally, whoever it was apparently decided to approach because they rounded a stack of bookshelves and approached him from the side.

Tom glanced up and arched a single curious brow at the sight of Draco Malfoy walking directly towards his table with his head held high and his shoulders set straight, clearly making an effort to look calm and confident.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked as he came to stand beside Tom's table.

Tom's eyes narrowed slightly, but he felt more curious than anything else, so he nodded his head and gestured to the empty chair opposite him.

"It's Moore, right?" Draco asked clearly trying to keep his tone casual and indifferent. Tom suspected this was a legitimate effort for him, as he knew that scathing, superior, and judgmental was much more Draco's natural territory when dealing with others his own age.

Tom nodded. "Yes, though Thomlyn is fine. And your Malfoy right? Can I help you with something?"

"I —" Draco began but instantly hesitated, looking as if he were second-guessing himself already. "Is it true what people are saying? That you and Potter are…?"

"Dating?" Tom asked, smirking slightly in amusement.

"Yes," Draco confirmed hesitantly.

"It's true," Tom said with a simple nod.

"Huh…" Draco said, blinking somewhat in surprise. "I wouldn't have pegged Potter for a—" he trailed off before snapping his mouth shut and clearing his throat. "I mean… I thought he was seeing a girl last winter, so…"

Tom just shrugged and continued to pin Draco down with what he knew was probably a rather penetrating stare, though he had no mind to stop or soften it any. Draco seemed to shift uncomfortably beneath his gaze.

"Has Potter told you anything about… me?" Draco asked warily.

"You mean, has he told me that you've spent the last five years going out of your way to taunt, tease, bully, and humiliate him at every possible opportunity?" Tom asked in a light and casual tone that belied the seriousness of what it was he'd actually said.

Draco blinked and appeared to swallow before giving Tom a strained smile. "Ah… yes. That."

"Yes, he's mentioned you."

"Right. Well… that behavior is actually a big part of why I'm approaching you. You see, I've been doing some… soul searching this summer," Draco began in a rather forced and stunted way, as if the words hurt him to say. Tom just sat there and observed, feeling mildly amused by the blond's obvious discomfort.

"—it occurred to me that I'd been something of a prat to Potter. That… perhaps I didn't… give him a proper _chance_ and…" Draco pressed on, but grimaced as if he were searching for the right sort of words to say and finding it difficult to demean himself in such a way. Finally he huffed out a frustrated breath, scowled into the distance of the library for a moment before looking back and meeting Tom's eyes. Judging by the flat glare he gave him, Tom suspected that the young Malfoy could see some of his amusement shining through in his eyes.

"Look… I'd like to offer Potter a truce. I would like to bury the hatchet, and _not_ in each other's backs."

"Oh really? Huh. So why come to me?" Tom asked.

Draco heaved a somewhat frustrated sounding breath. "Because I know neither of Potter's _other_ friends would tolerate me even _speaking_ to them long enough to hear me out."

"Not to mention you'd probably rather _not_ have to lower yourself to saying any of this to a blood-traitor or a mudblood," Tom drawled knowingly.

Draco's eyes widened but he kept his face stoney otherwise before giving a jerky conceding sort of shrug. "Perhaps…"

Tom smirked and chuckled before letting out a small sigh. "Look, Draco, I'm afraid that I'm not going to be able to help you here. You're going to have to speak to Harry on your own. You'd probably be better off just being patient, though."

"How so?" Draco asked, pinning him with cautious eyes.

"Harry is not interested in putting up with anyone who is just playing nice to gain points. The lack of authenticity will be screaming in his face and he won't put up with it or take you seriously. Actions speak louder than words. Just try to continue acting less prattish and eventually he'll notice."

Draco huffed out an impatient and clearly annoyed sounding breath, scowling off into the distance of the library again. Finally he turned his gaze back on Tom and opened his mouth to say something but then his expression seemed to shift to one of confusion and he just stared at Tom for an overly long moment, his eyes narrowed and his brow slightly furrowed. His head tilted slightly to the side, eyeing Tom for a moment longer than Tom felt comfortable and he knew he was looking at the blond through narrowed suspicious eyes now.

"Something wrong?" Tom asked.

"I just…" Draco started before blinking and shaking his head. "It's nonsense. Forgive me, I just thought you looked a bit like someone for a moment."

Tom's eyes narrowed further and he felt his heart rate pick up slightly as wariness began to build in his chest.

"Oh?"

Draco was back to looking at Tom with an unrelenting analytical caution. He almost seemed to be arguing with himself. "I mean… you're not…" his eyes widened and Tom saw _fear_ appear there for a first time and with that he knew he was fucked.

"No…" Draco whispered and his face paled. " _Are you?"_ he whispered leaning in with wide stunned eyes.

"Am I… _what?"_ Tom asked in a rather breathy and threatening tone that he instantly regretted.

Where there had been a war in Draco's features before, there was now nothing but horror and he leaned back in his seat as if he wanted to jump up and back away… or kneel and beg forgiveness.

Tom was instantly cussing up a storm in his mind, mostly aimed at himself.

"No — _No_ —" Tom said firmly, raising a finger and holding it up with one hand while he pulled out his wand and cast a quick privacy ward around them.

"Y-you're —" Draco stuttered but Tom cut him off again.

"No, I'm not."

"But…"

"I'm not him. _I'm not."_ he said firmly. _"_ He's my father," Tom added quickly, figuring it was better than the alternative and suddenly finding himself quite grateful that he'd actually started constructing this alternate cover-story.

Draco's face shifted from horror to shock and his chest seemed to deflate somewhat, though he looked no less pale. "Father?" he whispered in shock. "He… he had a —" Draco trailed off and grimaced.

Tom rolled his eyes though he could hardly blame Draco for finding the notion of _Lord Voldemort_ procreating as a rather disturbing one.

"Yes, he did," Tom said dryly. "Though I have to say you're the first person whose looked at me and actually seen a resemblance."

"Oh… well, I mean, it's certainly not _obvious_ ," Draco added quickly.

"Obvious enough that the first time you spend even a few minutes in my company, you notice," Tom muttered, feeling irritation and confusion rise in his chest.

"It was just this look you were giving me. I never would have even noticed anything, but when… when I saw him last, he gave me that same look and it had really stuck with me at the time," Draco said in a desperately placating tone.

Tom groaned inwardly. He realized now he'd made a huge mistake. Sure, he'd made sure that no one would remember what Tom Riddle had actually looked like in his youth through the Fidelius Charm, and that spell had clearly worked, however it didn't change the fact that Tom, in his youth, and Tom as the Dark Lord Voldemort had still been _the same person_. As Voldemort his features had morphed into something otherworldly and inhuman, but the base features had remained the same. The bone structure, shape of his jaw, and shape of his eyes and brows had never really changed all that drastically. The resemblance was undeniably still there. Harry had even said as much when he'd first seen Tom with his Voldemort transfiguration on — noting that Tom still 'looked like himself' somewhat.

For anyone who had come into close contact with Voldemort recently, it wasn't all that unreasonable that they might pick up on the similarities as well.

Suddenly a look of sudden understanding dawned in Draco's eyes and he gasped slightly. "Bloody hell… does Potter know?" he whispered.

Tom sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before returning his gaze to Draco. "Yes," he hissed back. "It's how we met. It's _why_ we met."

Draco looked surprised by this answer — no doubt he had probably been expecting that Tom was secretly hiding his identify from Harry or something along those lines.

"Really? And he's okay with — I mean, are you two _really_ dating, or is this some sort of…?" he trailed off, clearly unsure what he was even asking about.

"We really are dating," Tom said tiredly, still internally cussing himself out for not foreseeing this possibility. He wondered suddenly if all those deeply intent stares he'd been getting from Severus were related to this very same thing. Did Severus see the resemblance as well? And if he did, Did Tom need to worry about others recognizing him as well?

"So you and Potter really are dating, even though he knows—?" Draco asked, his face scrunching up slightly with surprise.

Tom huffed out a breath knowing that he was going to have to follow this through and take it seriously. With this new entirely unwanted development he was going to have to take the threat of being recognized far more seriously than before.

Where before, the story of being Voldemort's son had been planned as a potential avenue to retain old connections and control, it was now going to have to serve as a backup story to save his own arse in any troublesome instances where he was _recognized_ , even though he'd thought he'd already protected himself from that possibility.

Committing himself to having to follow through on this, Tom returned his focus onto Draco.

"Back at the start of the summer, right after Hogwarts let out in mid-June, my… _father_ sent me to speak to Harry specifically because I have no loyalties to the Dark Lord and would be less threatening. He needed someone who was neutral, because Harry would never trust someone who served Voldemort, so he couldn't send a Death Eater. Plus, they probably wouldn't have made it anywhere within fifty feet of Harry's home anyway. He also needed someone who he actually trusted with certain… sensitive details. I may not have any desire to pledge my loyalty or service to him or his cause, but he's still my blood. We have… an _understanding_. So he approached me, and after some convincing, I agreed," Tom said, having already fleshed out some ideas to the cover-story in his mind weeks ago.

"Merlin…" Draco whispered, appearing to be in a state of mild shock. "The Dark Lord has a _son_ ," he went on, gaping somewhat. "How is it that no one knows this? I mean… _does_ anyone know about you?"

"My mother went into hiding as soon as she realized she was pregnant. She even hid the pregnancy from my father. Then she went and died in childbirth, so literally no one knew who I was. I was twelve before I discovered who my real father was."

"Bloody hell," Draco said in a hushed awe, still looking utterly dumbstruck. He finally seemed to be pulling himself together and swallowed thickly. "How did you find out?"

"Well… being a parselmouth set off some alarm bells for one," he said with a tired shrug. Draco's eyes widened and he silently mouthed the words _'parselmouth'_ with a look of awe on his face. He leaned forward with piqued interest. Tom nearly snorted but pressed on.

"Then I started looking into genealogy spells until I found one that actually worked and turned up the names of my parents. _Then_ I did some more research because _Lord Voldemort_ is not my father's _real name, s_ o the name that the spell returned was just… you know, _a normal name_. And I'm sure you can imagine that the Dark Lord had gone to extensive lengths to erase any evidence of his past and who he used to be. It took a while before I found anything that actually connected the name I found with Lord Voldemort — but I did eventually find it."

Draco nodded his head in understanding, a serious and yet also deeply fascinated look on his face.

"So when did the Dark Lord find out about you?" Draco asked.

"After the graveyard resurrection," Tom whispered, surreptitiously looking around the library, feeling exceedingly wary of talking about this out in the open, even with the privacy ward. "I saw the reports in the papers about Harry and Dumbledore claiming that Voldemort had returned. I sought him out then — managed to find him pretty quickly. I'm not even entirely sure _why_ I did it. I don't buy into most of what he once fought for… I've never had any intention or desire to _join_ him or anything like that. It's just…" Tom shrugged, "he's my father. I wanted to find him. I needed to, I suppose."

"Wow…" Draco whispered, looking oddly awestruck. Tom wasn't even sure what to make of that.

"So… how did you and Potter end up…?" Draco asked, looking especially bewildered by that.

"Dating?" Tom asked with a smirk and Draco nodded. Tom shrugged again. "Honestly, it was the _last_ thing I ever would have expected to happen. I certainly didn't go to Harry planning to woo him or something. I didn't even go there planning to try and befriend him. I was just going to deliver the message and tell him what I'd seen. Give him my opinion on the authenticity of my father's… change in attitude. But Harry and I got to talking and… it was just so easy to talk to him. I had to go back and forth several times to play message delivery boy, and every time Harry and I would end up talking.

"One time we talked so long he missed his meal so I offered to treat him to dinner at a local muggle restaurant. I made the offer before even thinking through the whole thing. As soon as I had, I instantly assumed he'd refuse, but in the end he chose to trust me and so we went out to eat. It was fun. We just sort of… _clicked._ Later I ran into some trouble with something and went to Harry and he helped me. Later still I came across something I thought would help Harry with something else, and he was grateful for that. And later _still_ Harry came to me with a particularly complicated problem and I agreed to help him. That project took several weeks of work where he came to visit me every day while we worked on things. We just sort of grew closer and closer and things just naturally transitioned into something romantic. Neither of us ever expected it or planned on it. And our relationship is honestly and truly nothing to do with my father or his plans… though he certainly doesn't mind that it happened. He's quite thrilled honestly," Tom said rolling his eyes dramatically as if this thought was an annoying one to him.

"I imagine he is," Draco smirked, nodding his head. "He told me that he wanted to woo Potter to his side. That he's trying to turn him against Dumbledore."

Tom snorted. "It didn't exactly take much to turn Harry against Dumbledore. The truth did that easily enough. That part is solid and done. Expecting Harry to join the Dark is a lost cause, though, and I've told my father as much. But he's mostly satisfied knowing Harry wants nothing to do with playing along with Dumbledore's machinations any longer. He's also pleased that I'm here to keep an eye out for any threats to Harry's safety. He didn't want Harry coming back to Hogwarts at all and being so vulnerable to whatever insanity Dumbledore might try next, without someone to watch Harry's back. But when I was given the opportunity to transfer to Hogwarts, it sort of benefited all of us, so I agreed."

"Cor, this is mental…" Draco whispered. A look flashed across his eyes and he perked up even more an instant later. "Does this mean that you can help me with Potter? The Dark Lord ordered me to —"

"I know what he ordered you to do," Tom cut him off, rolling his eyes slightly. "And so does Harry, for that matter."

Malfoy's eyes widened.

"Harry _knows_ that you were ordered to be more well behaved around him - and honestly this probably works against you to some extent. It means that he'll take anything you do and chalk it up to you being ordered to do it, rather than it being a sincere effort to be less of a prat. I think at this point, he just expects you to break after a while and slip back into your old habits. The only way you're actually going to get anywhere with Harry is if you can keep it up long-term, and with more people than just him. If you act one way around him, but then go around calling people mudbloods and halfbreeds when he's not around, then he's not going to take you seriously at all and assume you're just fake. Will I help convince him otherwise? No. I'm not on your side, Draco. And I'm _not_ on my father's side either. Honestly, if I'm on anyone's side, it's Harry's side. You have to convince _me_ that you're serious about being less of a prat just as much as you need to convince Harry."

Draco sank back down into his chair a bit giving Tom a surprisingly thoughtful look before nodding his head as if he'd just made up his mind on something.

"Alright. I'll take that challenge."

Tom found himself smirking somewhat fondly. He wasn't even sure where this was going to go, but he did find he was curious to see where it went. Even if Tom now found himself in a potentially precarious position with his cover story. He supposed it was probably good that he'd come to realize this flaw in his plans now and with Draco, rather than someone considerably more dangerous. Now he'd be more vigilant about letting people who got close enough to Voldemort to clearly remember his features, also getting close enough to Thomlyn Moore to potentially spot the similarities.

It wasn't like the similarities were all that blatant or obvious, either. Draco was just a very observant person. He had a keen eye and Tom had appreciated that about him.

"Okay," Tom nodded his head slowly at Draco. "But I need your word that what we discussed here will go _no further_ than this. _No one_ can know about me, got it?"

"I — Of course," Draco said quickly. He hesitated then, frowning. "Who else knows already? Do Potter's friends realize —?"

"No. None of them know who I really am. Harry and I constructed a cover story. He didn't think his friends were likely to understand his willingness to associate with the son of the man who murdered his parents, let alone _date_ the son of the man who murdered his parents. He basically expected anyone who knew the full story to assume I had him under a spell or a love potion or something."

"And you don't?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "No. No, I don't."

"So no one else knows who you really are?"

Tom heaved a sigh. "Severus knows. —er, _Snape._ But he doesn't know any of the details. He just knows I'm Voldemort's son."

Draco shuddered at Tom's use of the Dark Lord's name but didn't look nearly as angry and disgusted that Tom was doing it as he might if Harry had been the one to do it. A light of sudden understanding flashed in his eyes a moment later, as well. "That's why he keeps staring at you all the time, and why he called you out for that demonstration the first day of class! He was testing you!"

Tom snorted derisively. "Stupid stubborn git," he muttered.

"Is he completely mental, though?! Challenging the _Dark Lord's son_ in a classroom full of students? Worst case scenario, he humiliates you, making you angry and potentially pissing off the Dark Lord. Best case, he loses to you and humiliates _himself_ in front of the class. I don't know what he was thinking," Draco said shaking his head in bewilderment.

"I'm not entirely sure what he thinks about me either. Perhaps he didn't entirely believe I really was the Dark Lord's son, after being sorted into Gryffindor and all."

"Merlin, _that's right_ ," Draco said, suddenly eyeing Tom's cloak and tie. "But I doubt he's questioning it now, even with that. Your performance in class that first day was _brilliant._ " Draco said, a tinge of awe in his voice. "The way you deflected his spells — the way you _disarmed him_ there at the end. It makes a lot more sense now that I know who your father is…"

Tom shrugged somewhat dismissively but didn't say anything.

"Did he train you?"Draco asked suddenly in an excited hush as he leaned in enthusiastically.

"My father?"

Draco nodded.

"A bit…" Tom hedged, unsure if it was a good idea to include something like that as part of his story.

"Merlin… that had to have been amazing… and terrifying," he added, his eyes wide.

"He and I have a… unique relationship."

Draco hummed thoughtfully, nodding his head slowly. "The Dark Lord told me not to trust Severus… I'm not sure what to think about that."

"I don't entirely trust him either," Tom muttered. "But the Dark Lord believes he's secured Snape's loyalty over Dumbledore — for now at least. I still wish he hadn't told the man about me, but there's nothing I can do about it now."

"Severus is really observant. He probably would have noticed the resemblance eventually anyway," Draco said thoughtfully.

Tom winced, once again cursing his idiocy for his monumental oversight.

"Is… is the resemblance really that obvious?" Tom asked, suddenly feeling outrageously self-conscious.

"Obvious? Oh no. Not at all," Draco said quickly with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Like I said, I only noticed it when you smirked a certain way. When he did it he just looked so… _human_. It looked so strange on his face that the image of it really stuck with me, that's all. You honestly don't look much like him — well, not the obvious stuff. The whole bald white skin, scales, and the absent nose. That's what people really remember when they think of him. The more subtle details don't stick in people's minds because they're too terrified to really _look_ at him. They wouldn't _dare_. I just happened to get rather close to him, and it was somewhat recently. Your face shape and jawline _are_ similar to his, and your eyes are the same shape — just different colors, obviously. I mean, if you look closely enough at him to see the human beneath the power, you might be able to tell that the two of you are definitely related, but like I said - few would do that."

Tom nodded thoughtfully, hoping he really could avoid any incidences like this happening in the future. It was a little late to start over with a new face now, so he just had to make due with what he had and hope for the best.

Worst case scenario, he had this cover-story to fall back on. It _was_ honestly looking pretty effective. He had to remind himself not to let temptation get the better of him as that _was_ a real danger given his sometimes lacking self-control. But aside from the allure of holding onto power and influence, this story _did_ provide him with a reasonable way out should anyone think to accuse him of being Voldemort.

It had certainly worked with Draco.

"Well, I ought to be heading back to the Gryffindor common room," Tom said as he began to gather up his things.

"I still can't get over that! You're a Gryffindor! Merlin, how the bloody hell did the Dark Lord's _son_ end up in Gryffindor? You said you were a parselmouth, right? How is it that you're not in Slytherin?"

Tom chuckled. "Honestly, I wonder that myself sometimes… I really was expecting to end up in Slytherin, and yes I really am a parselmouth. The hat offered to put me in Slytherin, but it suggested I stick with Harry. It made me choose between going into Slytherin and _facing tremendous temptation_ , or following Harry into Gryffindor. Seeing as how the whole reason I came here in the first place was to keep an eye on Harry, it seemed like the better idea anyway."

"You did seem to be under there for quite a while," Draco said eyeing him speculatively. "I understand your reasoning, but I can't imagine anyone actually choosing Gryffindor over Slytherin", he sneered and Tom chuckled and shrugged. Draco paused then, frowning slightly. "What do you suppose the Hat meant by _'tremendous temptation'?"_

"Ah, well that's probably related to my desire to _not_ follow in my father's footsteps," Tom said with a sigh. "I don't want anything to do with his war, or his Death Eaters… I want to be judged for who _I_ am, not who my father is. At the same time… I _am_ very ambitious. I _do_ have political aspirations. It would be very easy to take advantage of his connections and those loyal to him to build myself up, but I've sort of committed myself to not doing that. It would just be a lot harder to stick to that conviction if I were surrounded by people in awe of who my father is."

"Hmmm…" Draco hummed in understanding, nodding his head. "I can see that. I've always aspired to be like my father, but I'm finding now that the people who treated me with respect did so only because of my father and his position. Now that he's… out of favor, it's as if I've lost so much of what I thought I'd earned…" he trailed off, frowning almost sadly, though a tinge of frustration was clearly there as well.

"I've noticed how much it bothers you that Slughorn likes to pretend that you're invisible," Tom commented, as it _was_ something he had observed over the last week.

Draco scowled and sneered. "Before all of this, he would have been licking my boots just as much as he is with _Potter_. _I_ would be the one being invited to those bloody lunches and parties of his. _Not Potter_ ," he spat petulantly.

"At least father managed to get Lucius out," Tom said with a sigh. "It really bothered him that your father ended up in there."

Draco's expression shifted instantly to one of surprise and interest. "Really?"

"He's changed a lot since June."

"He said that Dumbledore had _poisoned him_ or something. That in healing the poison he had healed his mind? What does that even mean?"

"Well you said that you'd seen him, right? Did he seem different to you?" Tom asked curiously.

"Oh absolutely," Draco said nodding quickly. "It was almost… _strange_. But sort of amazing. And I could _feel_ his power. It was intoxicating. I'd felt it a bit in the past when I'd been nearby during meetings, but it wasn't as intense then… well, it was more _terrible_ I suppose, but before this summer he just felt dangerous and horrible. When I saw him this summer it felt _amazing_. Like, it made me feel _excited._ I have to admit that I was beginning to feel incredibly wary of the idea that Father expected me to take the Dark Mark when I come of age, but now that the Dark Lord has healed his mind, or whatever it is he's done… I find I'm not nearly so… I almost think I _want_ to now… _Not that I didn't want to before!"_ he added quickly.

Tom found himself clenching his teeth and trying to hold his expression as still and blank as possible. Not because he was displeased by anything that Draco had said — but perhaps because of the opposite, and that unsettled him. He wasn't sure what to think or feel about that.

The allure of commanding a group towards a common goal was still there. He felt it often, but he didn't trust himself not to get lost in it again. It was why he'd chosen to follow Harry into Gryffindor.

Tom realized suddenly that if he'd allowed himself to go into Slytherin he probably would have _let_ this cover-story slip all on his own, just like he did with Snape. He probably would have _let_ Draco find out about his supposed status as the Dark Lord's son, and even encouraged him to inform a select group that he trusted. The way Draco was looking at him with excited reverence made him realize this. This feeling… It was like that in the beginning. Before he went mad and started to enjoy their fear. Before he began to go out of his way to make sure they were all terrified of him.

The power — the respect — the _admiration_ …

"I need to go," Tom said suddenly and began to gather up the notes and books he hadn't already stuffed into his bag.

Draco looked startled and watched as Tom finished stuffing the last thing into his bag, stood, and slung the bag over his shoulder.

"Are… are we okay?" Draco asked hesitantly, looking mildly worried.

"Yes, Draco. We're fine," Tom said in a placating tone. "And… I _will_ give you a chance, and honestly, I think even Harry is open minded enough to easily agree to a truce, if not going so far as to start to like you. Just… just prove you're capable of treating other people like human beings — _all other people_ — without it looking like the idea makes you feel the need to throw up. Do this consistently and he'll take note. And finally — don't tell anyone about me. That's all. I really do need to be going."

"I — okay. Thank you," Draco said standing as well. As Tom went to move past him, Draco even bowed his head a small bit and Tom felt the bottom of his stomach drop out. He found himself speeding up his pace and he was soon climbing the Grand Staircase towards the Gryffindor Common Room.

After giving the password and climbing through the portrait hole Tom's eyes sought out Harry and he heaved a relieved breath when he found him there, sitting on one of the couches near the large fireplace. He was reading a book on Occlumency that Tom had given him and looked exceedingly bored. He looked up as Tom approached and smiled widely upon seeing him.

Tom felt his chest lighten at the sight of that smile alone, though now he was dreading having to tell Harry about this latest fuck-up. His dread must have shown on his face because Harry's smile dimmed and he looked at Tom worriedly as he came over and sank down onto the couch beside Harry and heaved a _very_ heavy sigh.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"Apparently I failed to take something into account earlier on and it's just come to bite me in the arse," Tom grumbled.

"What now?" Harry asked with a sigh.

Tom looked over and frowned, feeling a rush of guilt wash over him. Would there ever be a time when he wasn't complicating Harry's life? Harry just wanted something stable and semi-predictable for a while and even now that Tom was no longer out of his mind and trying to do everything in his power to kill Harry, he still managed to throw a wrench into Harry's day-to-day life.

He huffed out a breath, shaking his head and trying to push the guilt away for now. He pulled out his wand and cast an area privacy charm around them causing the din of the rest of the room to drown away a bit as well as preventing anyone else in the room from hearing them.

"It would appear that I was a bit narrow sighted in my precautions regarding my appearance and being recognized," Tom muttered, speaking low even with the ward up.

Harry's eyes widened and his face slackened with instant anxiety. "Shite! What happened?"

"I made sure no one who knew what Tom Riddle looked like would be able to remember it, and that's worked fine. What I failed to consider is that there are still people who know what _Voldemort_ looks like, and Voldemort and Tom Riddle are still technically the same person. Same bone structure, same general shape of things… just with changes to body fat, some locations of cartilage, the absence of a nose… "

"Are you saying someone recognized you as looking like Voldemort?!" Harry asked sounding incredulous.

"Draco Malfoy," Tom heaved a semi-frustrated sigh and Harry gaped at him. "Apparently I smirked in some fashion that he recognized from when I spoke to him at Malfoy Manor. He said that the smirk had really stuck with him at the time because it looked oddly human and had been strange on _The Dark Lord's_ face. When I did it in this form, it was just enough of a similarity that it still fired off some irritating little neuron in his brain, connecting the two dots."

Harry's face paled and a look of horror flashed across his face. "Wait - so he _knows_ that you're—?"

"No," Tom said shaking his head. "I ended up throwing him off of the notion that I'm the Dark Lord with that cover-story about being the Dark Lord's son."

"Wait - okay… so he doesn't think you're Voldemort, but he _does_ think that you're Voldemort's _son._ Bloody hell," Harry groaned dramatically, letting his face fall into his hands. "This is really getting out of hand, Tom! How many people now think that you're Voldemort's son?"

"Just three," Tom said grimacing. "Pettigrew — and he can't leave the ward boundary of my cottage without transforming into a rat — Severus, and now Draco as well."

"Draco bloody Malfoy," Harry moaned running a hand through his unruly mop. "How the heck did you end up talking with Mafoy, anyway? I thought you were with Hermione in the library?"

"We were, but Hermione had some study group for Ancient Runes to go to and left a short while ago. I remained behind to finish up what I was working on and that's when Draco approached me."

"What did he want? Did he go there to confront you about his suspicions or what?"

"No, he didn't _have_ any suspicions until we talked, actually. No, he approached me to try and get a feel for how open you would be to agree to a truce and ask what I thought could be done to smooth things over between the two of you."

Harry looked bewildered. "Why did he ask _you_ that?"

"Because he'd heard that you and I were dating, so he figured I might know you well enough to answer, and the only two other people he could think of to ask were Ron and Hermione and I'm sure you can imagine that approaching either of them wouldn't work out so well for him."

Harry snorted and nodded.

"I don't even remember what I was saying to him… I think I'd just told him that actions speak louder than words and he'd have to pull of a better attitude consistently, over a long period of time, before you'd buy into his changes. At some point in there I apparently made _a face_ that reminded him of the Dark Lord… which is somewhat upsetting. But I think it was a normal face for _me now_ , and an odd face for me as Voldemort, which is why it stuck with him before. I _can_ see that happening."

Harry hummed and nodded. "Yeah… you've definitely pulled some expressions that looked especially misplaced on your Dark Lord face the couple times I've seen you transformed. Merlin though… if Malfoy managed to recognize you from just that, then—"

"Yes… believe me, I've been mulling over the same concern," Tom said with a groan. "If Draco could recognize me, then _anyone_ who finds themselves in a position to get a good look at Lord Voldemort could potentially do the same. I suppose it's good that I discovered this problem with Draco Malfoy and not with someone more dangerous. And now I can be more vigilant in who I allow to see me as Voldemort, and to try and make sure that they don't see me as Thomlyn Moore enough to make any connection."

"What about Dumbledore?" Harry asked with a mild panic. "He certainly knows what Voldemort looks like."

"He hasn't made any connection yet, though," Tom said with a shrug. "And he's only ever seen me as the sneering monstrous Dark Lord. The reason that Draco saw any resemblance at all was because he's seen me much more recently. Oh, and there was one more thing —"

"Ugh… what now?"

"Nothing bad," Tom said quickly with a wave of his hand. "No, rather, it looks like telling Snape the 'child of the Dark Lord' line mightn't have been such a stupid idea. I mean… well, it was still a stupid idea for the reason I had at the time, but it might have been necessary eventually anyway."

Harry frowned. "How so?"

"Draco said that he thought Severus would have noticed the resemblance eventually as well, and I think he may have a point. And if that had happened, he might have assumed, as Draco did, that I was _Voldemort_ in disguise, and who knows what he would have done at that point. Draco's reaction also showed me that the story about being Voldemort's son is an effective one. His demeanor shifted instantly when he went from thinking I was Voldemort to the alternative."

"I imagine it would," Harry said dryly, rolling his eyes.

"In any case, I'm marginally relieved that I came up with the cover story now, just so I have something to fall back on in any instances where someone makes the connection between my appearance and Voldemort's."

Harry sighed, frowned, and nodded. "Yeah. I guess so too. I suppose it's better than having nothing to fall back on at all. It still seems mental to tell people that you're Voldemort's son."

"Better than telling people that I'm Voldemort," Tom drawled and Harry snorted.

— — — —

AN: Woo - I updated. Literally one year from the last major update…. yup. Yup, I'm awful. Sorry. This last year has been… shitty.

Anyway, I got a bit further on this one. I also went through and re-read the whole fic and fixed things up as I went. So I've updated every chapter throughout the whole story with minor changes. Nothing significant, and nothing that really affects the story or plot - mostly grammar, typo, and fixing paragraphs that didn't make sense or had way too many fucking commas, cuz apparently I go way overboard with commas when I'm not paying attention.

I might get a bit more written on it in the coming weeks or I must just pop back over to Again and Again and poke at that one a bit more. Dunno how long it'll be before any more updates are posted, but just know I've not given up on any of these guys - it's just slow going.


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